I took an arrow in the chest

Metaphorically, thank goodness.  He'll never know the wrath I faced.  The anger for his actions.  He'll never know the words spoken to me in a tone of disappointment.  He won't ever hear the words spat at me and see the furrowed brow.  I looked around the room and I'm the only one here.  Sometimes when the arrows fly in a room full of people you can dodge them and avoid.  He'll never know how I felt to take one hard in the chest.  There was no one to hide behind.  There was no one to use as a shield.  I felt the blow and sighed.  I let my face belie the hurt I felt inside.  I let my face belie the confusion in my mind.  I cleared my throat.  I thanked and smiled and said I understood.  I watched his back as he cleared the door.  I smiled and yanked the arrow from my chest.  I looked around the room.  Still, just me.  I set the arrow on my desk.  This arrow was not meant for me.  It had his name on it, not mine.  But, he was not here to take the shot.  I was the only one in the room and the bow was cocked.  The arrow was ready to fly and it had to go.  I picked it up and tossed it in the trash.  I crafted the words to clear the air.  I drafted the bandages, the balm, the healing salve.  I hit send and sighed.  My wound will heal and he will never know the arrow I took was meant for him.

After all, it's only business.

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