Len kept at her, “You’re a lazy-assed, piss-poor excuse of a wife and I’m sick of you talking about me to your goddamned mother, too!” She braced for another hit but he seemed more interested in yelling at her and the open air. He spit out, “I’ve HAD it with you picking, picking, picking at me, Gloria.” Unlatching the lap gate, he stood up. Glaring, he played his old ace, “See you back at the house.”
With that, Len stepped off the carriage to march home and, within a few moments, bounced off the asphalt like a load of bricks. Gloria, hearing the thud and screams below, stared ahead, gripping the seat bottom as the ride moved slowly around to let her out and return safely home, alone.
12 min, 10 min edit, 237 words