“You should have let them check it first.”
“It’s not that bad,” Stephen tried.
“You always act as if you know everything,” Martha pressed. “Five more minutes and they would have found the glitch.”
Stephen shrugged. “I’ll fix it.”
“Like you did the hole in our sky?” Martha retorted, satisfied with how his hands tightened on the steering wheel. At least he was getting a taste of the frustration he was causing.
“Now our daughter will have to grow up with a partial simulation,” she added. To rub it in.
“Our simulated daughter.”
He always did get the last word.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Fleur Lind