" We stare at each other to stave off the inevitable spat over who misses work. Warren’s down to his last few vacation days; I’d have to reschedule forty student conferences. But enough of the night sparkles through me that I say I’ll handle it, then I add, It’s good for me to get out every now and then. I hope so, he says. A few heartbeats keep me there in silence till I say, Was that sarcastic? He meets my eyes again, saying, Of course not. I start up the stairs and stop. I feel another urge to slide my arms around his strong middle and have him hold me, but if he withdrew, peeled my arms off—the refusal would’ve scorched me like a nuclear blast. I lean tentatively on the door jamb. Don’t you think I need to go out? You believe so, he says. Some rage burbles up, and from nowhere, I say—calmly but with force—That’s a shit thing to say. "

― Mary Karr , Lit