5/21/16 story. Fiction. Short story.

The fight had reached a crescendo. 

"Hit me!" She screamed into his face, full of anger and a desperation he didn't understand. 

"Why?" He looked in her eyes, confused, but determined in his point. 

She took the papers he had been holding and threw them up in the air over her head. They fell around her like leaves. 

He stood up, and she stepped one step back to give him room but didn't back down steeling herself and expecting a blow. He took her hands in his and asked her again. Why do you want me to hit you?

"Be... Because that's how it works. I disagree, and we fight until... It's better this way. You have to do it, you have to hit me, aren't you mad at me?" 

"Darling I'm furious with you." 

She sank to her knees, but he didn't let go of her hands. Tears were starting to mark a trail down her cheeks. "Then why don't you hit me?"

"I'm angry, but I still love you. I would never hurt you like that."

"But it's worse if you let me win, then I'll just regret it later." 

"Because you're wrong?"

"No... Because you'll find another way to make me pay for it." 

"No I won't. We're both adults. If you win, it's because you made a valid point, or it isn't as important to me as it is to you." 

"But... Then I don't know how to fight with you! I'm so angry and... And I'm not sure I'm ready to win an argument yet. It's scary."

"Then I guess we'll paint it red." 

"No!"

"Well, that's a good start. Let's try this again, without raising our voices." 

"I need to pick up these papers first. Do... Do adults take breaks from arguments? I mean, can we?" 

"I hope so, because you are dead sexy when you're crying like that."

"Ooh, you were reading my mind."