They say it, without a word uttering.
A glance, a tone of voice, what went unsaid.
Emerging spaces within spaces.
These non-verbal conversations, pregnant with significance.
These silent speeches, bloated, ripened, like a boil about to burst.
Exploding, projecting the infected pus.
Leaving a gaping hole where it once was.
Excruciating pain in the moment of truth, where deceit, hypocrisy unmasked.
Oh, what a blessed relief, from the pungent release of make-believe.