There is the moment of the inhale. Slowly and carefully, containing anger, maintaining poise. There is the brief, but studied exhale. Composure, before disclosure. Then a pause. Dramatic timing, build that tension. A purse of lips, a slight of shake of head.  Delivered in the most understated manner. Tone must be precise and deadpanned.

“And?” says the mother.

There is the sigh, inserted as a filler, to allow for quick scanning recalls of past conversations and recent events. Was there and odd blip that got missed on radar’s first studied pass? There is the long and somewhat annoyed inhale. Like zippering a make up bag; having been applied, bafflement and annoyance will be hidden from view.

Bumbling performance is key.

“What?” says the daughter.

Silence. The next to speak is likely to smear the polish.

These are debates of the eyes.

Language is for arguing with men, not about them.

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