Domestic Problems

Mere inches from the doorway and already I could hear his booming voice practically rattling all the items and ingredients I've meticulously organized right out of their shelves. 

On the call was my best guess, proven right when I quietly shuffled in and saw him swiveling in his chair, his smartphone looking more like a  plastic knock-off toy when buried in his burly fingers.

We made eye contact, and he looked grumpy, well grumpier than usual anyway… a clear flag waving the winds of danger, so I stepped back, politely waiting for him to finish.

Thought he needed the privacy, but apparently he himself couldn't have cared any less for it, he jumped out of his seat, started to pace, continuing on as loud as he's always been.

"Second voicemail now, didn't you say you were going to get a new phone soon? You told me you were. You'll keep hearing from me until you pick up."