Gobs of it oozed down, falling on his tongue, the taste and smell of copper staining his face.
He looked up at the old man, offended and confused, cupping his bloody face with his left hand.
They stood in silence, he felt a sharp sting on his face and the cold nipping at his exposed arms.
Behind him was a strong pine and freshly dewed grass, behind the old man was a yellow car and a grey building with windows boarded long ago.
These contrasting backgrounds speak to the differences between these men, and as they stand on opposite sides of an invisible line, those loyal to their causes are unseen as the crowds are absent today.
They stare intently at each other, each man's eyes locked onto the others, each silently screaming their hatred.
The only thing that had a chance of breaking this tension finally descended from the heavens, rain came down all at once, drenching both men.
Rain slid down his back, finding access between his jacket and neck, and in that moment the tension was broken.
Both men begin to laugh, they laugh and feel the rain on their bodies, as their laughter subsides they move to the wood bench, at his right, to negotiate peace.
Their talk began with the cool grey sky of day, but soon their words stretched so far that they ran into the dark starry sky of night.
As they spoke the wind hid their words, crumbled the meaning with each gust, so none of the absent no ones could hear.