THE HOARY HEAD
Hannah was growing annoyed at the elderly woman who was standing inches to her face, talking heatedly and treating her face and nose to both the foul odour which issued from her mouth, the mixed air having no choice but to force its way into her nostrils, and spittle, which made her face a mass of little white dots by the time she took a break from facing her, turning the other way for some respite.
‘I don’t blame you! It’s not your fault at all! I am the one who made the mortal mistake of coming to this God-deserted mall to shop! To think I am getting this kind of treatment, on top of the expired things you sell here! You are staring me in the eyeball, you little imp….’
Her voice rose and rose, along with the weight of her words. They were getting to Hannah, who was determined to soak it all in and allow her finish, no matter how long it took and what she said.
The word ‘prostitute’ featured among the many words which flowed from her mouth like a leaking tap. She was determined to sieve out the others, but this one stubbornly found its way into her ears, and she turned a rainy face from the west to the centre, facing her.
She felt she had reached her limit, and was about to prepare her retort. But she had another thing coming.
A scrawny shrunk hand was on its way to her face. If she had seen it earlier, she would have prepared for its impact. But it arrived, and found lodgement on her face. The timing was bad, and the damage was worse. It landed just when her mouth was about opening to make an effort to even the verbal score.
Her tongue was caught in between her teeth, and the contact snapped the upper and lower layers of teeth shut, digging deep and wounding her. Hannah’s frustrations heightened, and all her defences were becoming porous.
The dam broke.
Her hand started its journey to the lady’s face, and when it descended, it was a clenched fist instead of a palm, and it performed the duties it was assigned.
It was like the power switch was pressed off on a working generator: the words and rants died down as she searched frantically for space on the ground to collapse on. Her items of shopping did the same.
Hannah suddenly realized people had been restraining her and begging her not to reply that woman. Something clicked in her brain: the word ‘epileptic’ fought its way to prominence once again from the barrage of voices.
There were spasms and jerks; there was vibration and foaming. It happened for about ten seconds, and the elderly lady turned limp, against the efforts of the staff and customers of Galaxy Stores to prevent it.

Two weeks later, in prison late one night, she shuddered as she became aware of subtle and silent opening of her solitary cell. An officer was at the door, and his silhouette did not reveal any form of clothing on him.


Three weeks ago, at about this time, a woman, after receiving a generous tonguelash from Hannah for a flimsy cause, had snapped her fingers at the direction of her house, after mumbling some incoherent nothings.