She took a shower to get away. The scalding water warmed her like a blanket. She was cold, but her face was hot and red from tear stains. The water washed it away. The water silenced her head. Her heart still hurt.

His tongue sliced through her like little razor blades. He hated being nagged; she hated needing to. He was a thinker and she was a doer. She saw a problem and pounced, attacking first questioning later; he saw a problem and retreated, mulling it over till there was no choice but action.

Neither wrong, just different. Neither right, just divergent. They need to merge.

Fire and ice make steam.

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