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.