He sits at the edge of their bed.
“It is illogical for me to attempt to further clarify if you simply continue to disagree with my explanation.”
She spins on her heel, pacing.
“You are so…” she starts, her hands waving. “It’s like you don’t even…”
He sits, his hands on his knees, infuriatingly calm.
“You are being irrational,” he says.
“One of us is.” Her fists press into her hips as she stills, faces him.
His lips are a thin line. “You are not attempting to understand my explanation.”
It is not a question.
“You aren’t exactly trying, either.”
“This is illogical,” he says, stubbornly.