Her lower back ached, and her swollen feet throbbed, but the sight of George lounging on the couch, engrossed in his video game, made her frustration burn hotter than any physical discomfort.
She turned to him, her voice laced with exasperation.
"George, can you at least help me clean up? I've been at this all day. The dishes I left for you in the sink are still there. You said you'd wash them."
George barely spared her a glance, his fingers furiously pressing the controller buttons.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it later."
Emily gritted her teeth.
"You always say that, but you never do. You haven't lifted a finger to help since—since forever! I'm exhausted, George. This isn't fair."
He let out a dramatic sigh and finally looked at her, rolling his eyes.
"If it bothers you so much, why don't you just do it yourself?"
Emily felt something in her snap.