Knox

The soy sauce hits the table with a deliberate clink. Too loud. I feel it in my molars.

Emma’s thighs have already parted from the movement of her legs.

And the sight of it almost makes me laugh out loud. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s pathetic how badly she’s trying to pretend she still has a choice.

Her fork hasn’t moved in minutes.

Gina is still chattering about some tedious story of signing documents. Which I paid half attention too. I'm still surprise about her sudden change, no more fighting and arguing like we used too.

I give the required nods, the murmured agreements. My wife doesn’t notice...