You watch as the sun rises. And in the house lights start to come on. Shadows moving about behind the curtains.

You can hear murmurs of discontent. Fractured conversation. An argument not finished from the night before.

They are trying to hide it. Don’t let the children know. But they always know. You are outside of those four walls and you can see it, so why expect the children to be ignorant?

You hear it cut short. Not now.

One moves to get the children going. The other, uncomprehending, stays. Waiting. Thinking, can they force this now? No, you see them resign, and prepare for the day ahead.

You stay. Waiting. Though you know what will happen.

Two girls arrive, and then their number doubles from those inside. Flocked together they chatter happily. And oblivious? No, they try not to show it, but they know something is up.

Then one, and the other, of the parents leave. Their brief time alone was spent in strained silence. Broken bye a short goodbye. Hinting of a reconciliation, but not reciprocated.

The fire of one burns stronger, but they both leave wishing it wasn’t hanging over them. And with no desire to face the world.