He had seen it, moving black from behind her eyes,
bleeding from the green iris.  His nightmare, an instant
of reaction he had imagined in a speck on the horizon
of his past.  His nightmare, moving cold and dropping
guts, moving in her eyes.
	This was a monster he had named Aversion.  This was
a monster he had prayed long and daily never to encounter in
her.  She sensed it and buried it quickly, forcing toward him 
her hand which had sprung away, an extension of nightmare. 
After her apology and dry awkward kiss she slid away into the
bathroom.  Alone, he extrapolated the slashing shard of that
second into a mosaic of misery and loathing.