The Unspoken Argument


I look at her.
She looks at me.
I toss my head and turn my back.
She does the same.
Angrily, I stamp my foot.
Indignantly, she stamps hers.
Then I feel a velvety nose
lean down on my shoulder.
I turn, half smile.
"I'm sorry, too," I whisper.
She nickers back the same.

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