The beauty of hatred

I saw a flash of anger on her face, but she quickly replaced it with a
devastatingly bright smile. Her expression stayed with me the rest of the
day. Even though it happened in a split second, it was still there. All that
stored up hate was brimming under that smile, ready to spill at any moment.
In truth, Im not mad at her at all. In fact I actually admire her ability to keep
herself calm. I await the day she wont be able to keep it in anymore,
because I absolutely adore witnessing the beauty of pure hatred.