Hearing the Words

Although my voice rose in volume his ears rejected the sounds, unable to distinguish the words. Speaking to his back, I felt like a mime without a mirror. My heart grieved at the loss, no longer able to reach the one I had laughed with, and loved, all of my adult life. But his eyes spoke eloquently, his smile erased my anger, and his kiss warmed me to my toes. New hearing aids brought his world into sharper focus and now the words bounce off walls like cymbals on a drum. "Three thousand dollars," he grumps. "and I prefer the silence."