he became enraged that I had been reading a book while waiting for him to return home. Instead of jumping immediately up to greet him as he walked through the door, I had wanted to finish the paragraph before getting up. He snatched the book up out of my hands, then gathering the rest of my collection up, threw them all in a box and locked them in our storage unit that the apartment complex had, for which he had the only key. Telling me I could get them back after I learned to prioritize better.
   An action he justified by calling me selfish, informing me that I had negligently put my personal pleasures ahead of my responsibilities. I had been completely self-centered by continuing to read when I should have been making dinner as a good wife would have.
   Imprinting on me t...

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