Snapshot of a marriage

Here we go again,” he mumbles.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she says.

“What have I done now?”

“What haven’t you done?” She points to the mess in the kitchen. “For once I’d like to not come home to more work.”

“Well, I made dinner.”

“Really?” Her frown spreads into a wide grin. “What’d you cook?”

“Oh, fried chicken, mac and cheese.”

“Hmm.” She scans the empty pots on the stove, the pile of dishes in the sink, the overflowing trashcan starting to smell. “Where’s my plate?”

“Oh, you wanted some?”

She lunges for his neck with both hands.

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