"Yeah, sure you are, Max. You’ve seen your son a whole three times since he was born and when you hold him it looks you would rather be holding a gun. With Elizabeth, you’re great, she’s easy and fun and you’re daddy and never here so you get to be the fun dad, but beyond that?"
Gracie shrugs her shoulders and ignored her phone going off. She could distance herself from work, something her husband clearly couldn’t do anymore.
"I never wanted to be this girl, the nagging wife and that’s what you and your fucking job have turned me into, Max. I just feel like there’s no point anymore. I can’t remember the last time you kissed me and actually meant it, when we have sex it’s like two strangers have sex, but even strangers have more of an emotional connection. I feel like you don’t love me anymore, but I know that’s not true, you just love your job and your sniper gun more than me."
"Is that what you want me to say? That I love my job and my gun more than you? I don't. I hate my job because it's easy for me. It's easy for me to sit behind a gun and distance myself from everything. Because out there"--he looked down at his hands taking in a deep breath--"Out there I have my scope separating me from everything. It's easy to take the shot. And I hate that. I love you. I love being home. I our kids. Because this is real. This is here. But I--I can't get myself from behind that damn gun. I can't stay away from that long enough to feel what's right in front of me when I'm home."
Max put in head in his hands, taking in a deep breath to try and fight off the feeling of panic in his chest. He couldn't be here. He couldn't--
"I need a cigarette," he said, his voice barely loud enough for Gracie to hear him.
He got up quickly from where he sat and step outside their house. Max struggled to pull out a cigarette from his pack and struggled to light it as well.
"Fuck..."
