IRIS

I follow him through the hallway, my boots squelching in the mud he tracked in, and I already know where this is going. I can feel it coiling in him, waiting to burst, and I know he can’t stop it himself. He doesn’t even glance at me as I open the door to our bedroom.

The second the door swings wide, the chaos hits me like a physical force. Clothes are strewn across the floor, books fly from the shelves, and the furniture is in shambles. His anger has taken a tangible form in the room, tearing it apart piece by piece. A vase skitters across the floor, crashing...