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I mentally kicked myself for thinking maybe the pancakes would help or the boys’ enthusiasm would lighten his mood. I realized I was wrong.
“Madison, where’s my white shirt?” he barked from the bedroom, his voice slicing through the hallway like a blade.
He turned to me, eyes wide in disbelief. “What do you mean you just put it in the wash? I asked you to wash it three days ago! You know that’s my lucky shirt! And I have that major meeting today. You can’t even handle one task?”
The beast was out. It was now storming into the dining room, and I followed.
“I forgot, I’m sorry. I’ve been feeling really off lately.”
He did not hear me, or he chose not to.
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