A tightness grips my throat like a vice. The pillow is wet with tears without me even realizing it. I wipe the right side of my face. A pill and a gulp of water straight from the pitcher releases my throat from the cinch of anger. The thought of the impending chemical comfort settles me.

This morning merely out of reflex, I asked her what she would be doing today.

"Just the chores", she replies, "unless you have something you want to do?"

Lately, I've been trying to be mindful of every real and imagined conversation in my head. Sometimes the imagination is the fuel to a fire sparked off by a simple interaction. Like a video game character who has various options to respond with, I exercise this concept and choose an uncommittable answer, instead of bringing up the many past times I've tried to include her in my plans but was only turned away.

In that moment, I feel like a loser, turning to someone whose company I hate, for company.

Here we go again.

The murmur in my head is broken by the suggestion to go to the plant nursery. My heart only almost smiles.

This is not a present waiting to be opened, she never wraps her presents to me.

This is not a day marked on the calendar to look forward to, a fight always breaks out.

Just last night, I was not hungry, but forced an appetite out of me by envisioning a spicy and savoury Thai-style fish dish. I wanted to spend time with someone. Anyone. Well, not anyone. Someone I cared for at least.

Due to the queue, we had to go elsewhere. A prawn noodle place. We ordered and sat down. I looked at her as she took out her phone. No matter how many times it happens, I never get used to poor quality company and lack of stimuli at the dinner table. Disappointed, I resigned for the millionth time to take my meal in front of her in silence and with my eyes safely fixed on my phone too. I suggested to go to the supermarket, but a barrage of complaints follow. That it would take too long. That she has a TV show to catch. I suggest that she goes home herself and I can take it from there. But she follows me anyway.

Sometimes, it feels as if she hates my company too and can't stand to be around me for another useless second.

Despite this, she comes in to my room like an unwanted guest sometimes. Not to talk to me, more to absorb, or disturb, the calm energy of my set up.

So while waiting for everyone to get in order today, I repotted some plants to build up the colour scheme in my bedroom. I made terrarium pieces, cleaned up and read. It was an alright way to spend a relaxing Saturday. Suddenly, she barges in and barks marching orders to get dressed for the nursery because her car is going to be returned to her soon. My video game character is not loaded. I don't have those conversation choices to pick. The sudden intrusion cuts me to the quick of a primal anger so close to the vengeance I have for the day I was born to her. I bark back at her like a mad dog.

"Why are you so angry?"

I sigh deeply to root myself to the person I want to be. With two feet already out the door, she asks me if I am still going out with her. I'm definitely not. But I can't even say no. My voice grows small again. 

Google must have it in their algorithm that about every month, they receive a search for cheap rental places. My brain is hearing again all the promises I make to myself not to