A few hours later you came back. I was reading on the sofa and ignored you. You tried to say something to me I think but everything was so fuzzy that I didn't make it out. You walked across the room, took my book and looked down at me. I could see it in your eyes. You knew I knew. It was so infuriating, we both knew and you still didn't have the courage to say anything about it.
"Yes?" I questioned you meeting your gaze full on. You broke it, looking down at the book you had in your hand. It was my copy of The Princess Bride. My favourite book. The book I read when I was upset. The book I read when I was angry.
You pick my bookmark up off the table, put it in the place where I had just been reading and then gently set it on the table where you proceeded to sit. You knew how much that irritated me, we've had the argument many times before.
"tables are not for sitting on" I remarked
"You say that every time" You said passively
There was a long silence at this point neither of us having the strength to look at each other. I was looking out the window and you was looking at the door. This alone said more about our relationship than either of us cared to admit at this point.
It was me who broke the silence. After a long and heavy sigh I swung my legs onto the floor and got up.
"I guess I'll start dinner then"
Silence.
"Anything in particular you want?"
Silence.
"Did you pick up the chicken?"
Silence.
I went to the kitchen to poke around to see what I could find.
One might also think that the fact that I was offering to make dinner says a lot about our relationship as well. It also means that it was a Wednesday. Wednesday was my night to cook.