Weeping

They were arguing again, upstairs, as they often do. And it's noticeably more frequent these days. Sometimes it's annoying, intrusive. Today I listen, amused. But making no noise myself, being so careful to keep quite, I do not want to get involved. I cannot make out what's being said or know how it all started; if anything specific did start it.

He's domineering, as usual; she's feisty, relenting. He's so much louder than her, making most of the noise; aggressive, more so than usual, possibly. But she's answering back; holding her own, will not let him coerce her.

Then something new. A thud. A distinct thud. And silence. A silence that echoes through the building. Did he hit her? It's hard to be sure, but likely, most likely. And now the softest crying; no more than a whisper. Tears so silent they are barely discernible. It's a strain to hear them; but they're there allright.

I'm ashamed, wondering. Should I do something? I don't, of course.