"I'm not a mind reader! I can't tell every time you're in your feelings about something!" I yell, stomping out of the room. Same s**t, different day.
"Well maybe if you'd ask sometimes then I wouldn't feel like you don't care" Tevin yells, flopping down on the couch with a beer like he does every day after work. Standing in the kitchen, I roll my eyes and pour myself a glass of white wine, preparing myself for this long exhausting feud. Everyone other day he comes in with one of his moods. Either it's about his crappy job or what people may say about him behind his back. Whatever it is, I have to suffer for not automatically knowing when he needs a bib and pacifier.
"Why do I have to baby you? If you want to talk then just say it. Do you lack the ability to be straightforward? Does every
