a joke

She whispered, "Do you believe me?" A joke was made and regretted. Her eyes grew sad in the middle of her laughter. Both wished to take back the confession, the question, the joke. It hung in the air more potent than her aging dog's farts. The infection could stop and the poison reversed. The joker feared weakness and could not release the apology clogging her airways. She filled the wine glasses and looked as honest as she could muster. "Yes. I believe you." The eyes grew confused. What was believable? She wanted to let go of the self-doubt and hatred, but it was impossible in the face of this sarcasm. The rest of dinner would be just another exercise in self-control. And she had had such high hopes.

People say fucked up things (myself included). I'm trying to learn to be brave enough to ask for explanation. If only I could read minds...