Dana Doherty was a lovely woman of the upper crust, her raging mane of red hair was held in place by an array of bobby pins and a bonnet that allowed only a little wisp to drop seductively upon her swan like neck. Her skin was of alabaster but a slight dab of pink blossomed upon her cheekbones, and her long lashes framed two beautiful pools of sapphire that fanned the flames of passion in most men’s hearts.
“So you write Mr. Geoffrey?” she asked with muted amusement. “I am attempting to write in theme a collection of 15 stories on the different expressions of anger” he said rather sheepishly. “I would think that anger can only be expressed in one way” she said rather coyly. He explained “Most times anger comes in the form of despair, as in a loss, two emotions intertwine into a violent tango of which one is not certain which face is presented. Then there is an anger towards a loved one who disappoints, it’s an anger that does not supersede love but are like emotions that transmogrify into tiny daggers that meld into larger edges but are somehow subdued by one’s sense of devotion which in turn becomes an esoteric amalgam of emotions which only a wife of a drunkenly ridiculous husband can fathom.”
“I apologize Ms. Doherty for the scholarly manner I present myself. But please accept my humble explanation that love merely keeps women like you from killing men like me.” said Mr. Geoffrey.