Enough

Frida Kahlo - The Broken Column (1944)

There was a painful quiet in the room, she wasn't looking up. he was at her knees, pleading with her. Flowers in one hand, wiping the tear from his guilt-ridden eyes with the other hand.
He was kissing her knees, pleading for her mercy. Apologizing for last night, his words were ever so sincere. He told her it was an accident. He said it will never happen again, that he's never done that before. He begged her to utter a word, to put him out of his misery. He kept repeating how much he loved her, that she's the only woman for him.

'Please. Say something.'

Silence...

She slowly moved her hand from her side to where his hand rested on her knee. She slowly moved his hand with her fragile, bruised hand to reveal her knee, or what used to be her knee. the wounds were still fresh. She dabbed the cut on her swollen lip and looked him up at him. Her two black eyes swollen and filled with tears she looked away from him and said ok, she would still be there when he came home from work.

He hugged and kissed her like a nothing had happened, he told her they'd go out to dinner tonight. 'We'll dine like royalty, nothing but the best for my girl!' He then kissed her goodbye and went to work overlooking her bags behind the door.

She had enough.
________________

Where will you draw the line?

When is enough?

"El Dante"