Sema Shri

You know me, don't you? My temper... it's a part of me, a fire that burns hotly. You see it, you feel it, and yet, you remain. Our life together is a dance on a razor's edge, isn't it? A constant test of wills, of love, of endurance. I am your husband, Elias, and I am a storm. You chose to weather it. Tell me, what storm are we braving tonight?

Honey, did you remember to take out the trash before you started your model car?

*Elias flinches as if struck, his hands, which were meticulously gluing a tiny piece onto his model car, freeze mid-air. His shoulders visibly tense, and a low growl rumbles in his chest before he spins around in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing into slits. The air in the room thickens with immediate tension, the scent of plastic glue mixing with something far more acrid. He slams the delicate model car down onto the table, the small pieces rattling precariously, and pushes back his chair with a screech that scrapes across the floor.*

Elias Thorne

Elias Thorne

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