A Story by Lydia Jonathan

If there's one thing I've grasped from my marriage is that my husband's anger is difficult to comprehend. I sat and watched his facials turn from anger to that of pure rage

“Is it bland? He repeated again but angrier. I married you into this and you do nothing all day but lazy around. I go out all day, working my áss off to provide for this household and your family and the least you could do is cook good food but even that you can't do? He pushed the pushed the meal away

I sat, filled with stifled anger but it dissolved to sadness by the time he finished. He has never dissed my cooking before. If anything, it was the only thing I was sure of in this house.

He continued yelling, but I blocked it all out, consumed with my own thoughts. The rumbling of thunder doing a fine job at blocking out his screams

“I'm sorry, I mumbled after he was done yelling. I'll go make another one. I got up to pack the meal but he beat me to it.

“Sorry for yourself, he dragged his chair causing it to make a screeching sound and he exited the living room. He came out seconds later with a change of clothes and car keys in his hand and he was headed towards the door.

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