“It’s quite dry today isn’t?” Eric says to his wife across the dinner table.

She finishes chewing her piece of steak before she says, “Well someone was in a hurry to eat”.

“Because I was starving”, his voice teetering on the edge of withheld anger.

“Then. Eat.”, Saoirse bites back. So fed up with their quralleing about the smallest things, fed up with his temper that she couldn’t find the strength to speak to him anymore.

The fork and knife make a clang as they hit the plate. He pulls out his chair and gets up to leave while adding, “I’m going to get somthing from outside”.

When door slams shut, she’s left in the silence of her home. Looking across at the empty seat her face contorts, fuming. And after the passing of a beat she sets her own utensils down, the same dipping motion resonating in her heart as she realises what she really feels. Disappointment.