Miserable

"I give up." Carson throws his hands in the air. "Talking to you tonight is like talking to a brick wall." Following Misty's route, he aims for the refrigerator.

Fishing out his last bottle of beer, he pops the lid with his opener and takes a swig. He should be on his way to bed is what he should be doing. It was late. But his nerves were shot. His eyes fall back to Misty again and he gives her a cold stare for several moments. "How about you just drop this whole thing and not ask me about it again, ay? I think we'd both feel a whole lot better."

In order to end the conversation, he returns to the living room and flops down in his chair in the corner, glaring into the dark. Sipping his beer, his anger simmers and he listens to the dishes being washed. He imagined soon he would hear Misty preparing for bed. He knew that he'd hurt her, and she would probably let the topic drop for now in order to avoid more fighting tonight. But all that did was make him more miserable.