My wife has decided to start off the day by watching a scary movie.
I am doing everything I can to pretend it isn't happening.
When I asked her, fifteen minutes into it, if it was almost over, she laughed and said no. Then she tried to reassure me that it wasn't scary.
Bullshit.
When everyone is screaming like it's the end of days, that's all it takes for me to think something is scary.
When nice old ladies turn into flesh-eating evil-doers, blood dripping down their chin, that's all it takes for me to think something is scary.
When it's dark outside and the screaming people are running around, trying to save one of their own, that's all it takes for me to think something is scary.
My wife insists I can't even see what's going on. She's doing her best to defuse my internal situation.
But she doesn't understand that even though it is bright and sunny outside and the little birds are happily eating from the feeders and the basset is sleeping beside me on the sofa and no one else in the household seems to have an issue with it, there are just some things that I can't get past. People screaming and dying and screaming and dying some more when it's bright and sunny outside, when the little birds are eating, when the basset slumbers beside me, is precisely one of those things.
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