It was a letter of determination, timid yet maddened, from a rural woman.
The man's eyes rested on that piece of paper for a long time, then he tore it to shreds.
The woman was startled by his action, her eyes widened as she dove to grab it back, snatching the last bits of paper from the man's hand.
"Don't tear it! Don't tear it!"
But the man didn't listen at all, snatched back those bits, and shoved her away, her head hitting the corner of the table with a dull thud.
He directly tore the half-sheet with the words [Divorce Agreement] on it, tossed it onto her, then stood up towering over her.
He was mute, couldn't speak, let alone yell, but sometimes a silent glare was even more terrifying.
The woman cowered in the corner of the table, too late to rub her throbbing head, only looked at him with fear, staring at his large hands hanging by his side.
