Whitefish River You-you-you-you threw my sandwich away. *MY* sandwich?

She watched him again as he repeated her words over and over. And his strange, fake laugh? She knew then that this was going to be bad. She had messed up big time.

How could you. He might as well have brandished her with his teeth; it hurt just the same. And then the yelling came, bringing tears to her own eyes. He had never spoken to her in that way, and the thought squeezed her heart. She wanted to move back to him, but he was frantically pacing, and she was afraid he would push her away.

She didn't have answers to any of his questions. What if something had happened to her? She didn't know. And then he brought up the kids, and the tears spilled down her cheeks, infinitely fueled by regret and hormones. She swallowed hard and drew in a shaky breath.  I don't know what to say, Emrik, she finally said. She sniffled. I just want everyone to be taken care of, and I didn't think it through. The tears still spilled, now in response to the wetness she saw in his eyes and her incredible guilt. I'm really sorry. She moved over to him but didn't dare touch him. Instead, she just took a seat nearby.