Five Inches

Chicken feathers and the hate stare. My lids half open, pupils rested, I detected no threat. You have not seen what I have seen. I imagined the long three seconds and multiplied your rage by your size. My height and weight by the five inches between your chin and Adam's apple. Examined the minutiae of your chest and the shivering in your rage. You'd use a gun. But you keep it in your house from fear. I'm a pacifist.