Gemotions

The clinking of silverware grated on Elias' nerves. Dinner had become a battleground. He watched as his wife, Olivia, reached for the soy sauce, her smile strained.

"Pass me the... uh..." she began, her brow furrowing in concentration.

Elias already knew. This was the third time this week. He gripped his fork so tightly, the tines began to dig into his palm.

"The shoyu?" she finally managed, her voice filled with a forced cheerfulness.

He didn't respond. He couldn't. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. The room seemed to spin. Each gesture of hers was a deliberate taunt. He wanted to throw his plate against the wall. Instead, he just sat there, frozen, the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each passing moment.