Volatile

He slams his fists on his desk. She props her fists on her hips.
He sneers out of the side of his mouth. Her eyebrows vault.
His hands relax. Her brow wrinkles.
He sits down. She steps back.
He rubs his temples with his fingertips. She leans onto his desk.
His hands drop on his desk, palm up, fingers curled. She rests her elbows on the desk and puts her hands in his.
His eyes shut tightly; a tear wedges its way from the corner. She gives his hands a comforting shake.
His jaw slackens. Her mouth forms a thin line on her face.
He speaks. She slaps him.
He slaps her. The door closes behind her.

Information provided by Petersons.com (Through my.yahoo.com.)

(I have been critiqued on several occasions as writing talking head dialogues, so I figured, why not try to write a dialogue with no words?)