It is the last days of our marriage. The days of waiting to move out. Of awkward coexistence.  
He has been cleaning his guns all afternoon.
Dinner time comes and I sit with my back to the kitchen.
My children at the table.
He comes in holding a gun. I am used to the cleaning but not to him walking around with them. This is new and not expected.
My pulse quickens and I say calmly, “do you mind putting that away?”
“Why, does it make you nervous?” he says tauntingly.
It is in that moment that I realize I will never be free.
My pulse will forever more beat to a different rhythm.
My soup tastes like fear but I swallow it down anyway, turn to him and say “yes, yes it does”.