The Train Metaphor
Criss cross, clickity clack and suddenly the train is passed, long gone. The train in this metaphor was an argument, and the cross-crossing was the misunderstanding that led to the argument. And as the train disappears beyond the horizon I don't know, may never know, if the train is still on the right track (in this metaphor the train is our relationship) or if the misunderstanding, which now remains unexplained, has subtly redirected the train to a dead-end suburban branch line that only has those dull smelly diesel commuters.
Mosquito
Bees are good, but perhaps mosquitoes are better. They might be just the annoyance...
