The late afternoon light showed up the leg scars.
Fresh out of the shower now, standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. Body dried, but clothes scattered. Peering at the stomach bruises, received only last night. Holding back tears, stepping forward to take an inventory of face damage. One puffy eye, split lip healing nicely. Thumb prints from the choke-hold taking a long time to fade. Most things cunningly hidden by the discreet use of clothing. A scarf, long sleeves, gloves, sunglasses… sometimes makeup. Sporadic discussions about separation never seem to come to anything. What is it all about, love or weakness?
The front door was opening.
“God!” he thought, “Here we go again…”