Pillow Fight

It was like a pillow fight.
Just that, instead of pillows, we were throwing burning red hot coals at each other. The palms fumed with the foul smell of burning flesh and fingers were no less hurt. It all started with a typical ‘I am fed up with your habits’ and 'what wrong did i do' stuff; but slowly, words turned into molten glass being pure directly into ears. Anger got confronted with anger, and the bioling point touched the threshhold.

Someone had to break down, and the one who always does, did break down.
Yet – ‘I have nothing to say’ still continued ....
The harm has been done. This pillow fight will leave permanent scars.