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There was something about the way they looked.
They're asserting themselves, she thought.
They're saying, 'And what of it?'

And what of it, she asked herself as they stood, and she sat, leaning back; regarding them with folded arms.

It was a matter of balance. And of trying to unsee what she knew of them; to see what that really meant.
Yes.
A matter of divorcing them of all she perceived them to be.

She shifted in her chair.

But they have no business being together.

An interesting observation, she thought. Only one who is determined to view these known characters as incapable of being anything else could believe such a thing.

Unfolding her arms, she leaned forward; looked at the individual aspects, and the scene as a whole.

It wouldn't be a case of forgetting, she thought, but an act of unknowing.

And what would they become when names, identities and memory were stripped?
Something to see anew.

And what could they become?
Anything.