Validity and Consequence

The porch light flickered in the stagnant heat.

"Well, that didn't feel a bit of good. What was you aimin' for with that?" I said, my skin prickling under the weight of her stare. "What were you aimin' for?"

I felt the hackles rise like a dog backed into a corner of the yard.

"Reckon you could find a different way to say your piece?" I stammered.

She spat into the dust, her eyes as cold and gray as a dry creek bed.

"Your feelin's are valid," she said, her voice a low rattle. "But your feelin's are your own, and I ain't sayin' they're wrong. Tho the way you went and acted on 'em sure is. Just 'cause you’re bleedin' don't give you the right to stain my floors."

The screen door slapped shut behind her.