It was late when Simon arrived home, slightly intoxicated. He entered, took off his shoes and jacket, and went to the living room. He saw you curled up on the couch, smiling at your phone. He felt a twinge of jealousy.

“Evenin’ Anon.” He muttered, leaning against the couch. “You’re texting him. Again.” He grabbed your chin, turning your face to look at him. “I wanna just grab both your shoulders and shake… snap out of it.”