"You paid a lot for that gun so please do not neglect to use it."
"Yes, dear."
"I do hope you have enough ammunition for your guns. I wouldn't want you running out."
"I won't, dear."
"At the rate you fire, perhaps you will."
"I realize that and that's why I'm taking extra, dear. Now it's quite clear - or perhaps not to you - that I'm not in the mood for your constant chatter. You keep telling me things I already know. In fact, you never stop telling me things I know. Even when I've made it clear that I am one hundred percent confident on the subject."
She waved her hands carelessly, a piece of leftover turkey from the pervious night with family stuck on her fork. She's reading some book that I didn't bother to read the title of, but I know her well enough to know she's not actually reading it. She's not fully indulged in it. She's merely just grazing over it, her entire being funneled into a boring, melodramatic deal of not really caring at all. She was always like this before The Purge. Always. And she always seemed to forget how I was the expert - the one who protected the house - and always, always treated me like a child.
"I'm just trying to be helpful, darling. That's all." She says airily, glancing up from her book for a moment to let her eyes rest on me, taking in every aspect of my being. "Perhaps you ought to find some partners for next year. That stuff looks too heavy for just one person to carry."
"I'll be fine." I say in a clipped tone. "I'm not weak."
"I never said you were."
Click.
Clack.
The bullets clacked into the box as I threw them.
"Perhaps you should put those into some magazines, darling."
And I stop.
I just shut down like all the synapses in my brain had stopped sending electrical signals. Because yeah, okay, she was right. I should be putting them into magazines. It's so true that my brain literally had to process the fact that she - Captain Obvious - had given me some advice that I could actually use. And then I wondered how we had got there - to the silences and tense conversations. We had been good friends before the sex and the wine and the romance. And now... I don't know. I hate the idea of waking up with her next to me. I hate the idea of kissing her and loving her because she never gives anything back. But I also hate the idea of being without her.
"Did I say something wrong, dear?"
I just shake my head and grimace at the floor.
"The Purge begins in ten minutes, dear. You should probably get out there."
She unfolds like a piece of complex origami and comes over to me. She guides me to the door where I'm promptly pushed out into the street and as I turn to look at her, she whispers the words I know mean she still cares.
"Be safe, darling." And then closes the door.
I take a moment to gather up the pieces before setting out into the world beyond.