Tim defiantly punched the “off” button and flippantly tossed the remote control onto the coffee table. Arms folded across his chest, he scowled at the blank television screen. “Worthless,” he grunted to himself. The front door swung open and Lynn walked in. Their eyes locked and she lingered in the doorway for a moment. “I am sick and tired of this country’s sorry excuse for media,” he spouted.
“So happy to see you, too, sweetheart,” she responded without skipping a beat. She headed through the living room and into the kitchen, setting her bags on the counter.
“The propaganda of the news media disgusts me to my core. This government’s administration is just unbelievable. I know it shouldn’t make me this angry, but it does and I can’t help it. Gets worse all the time.” A moment later Lynn reappeared in the doorway. “Sweetheart, you can help it, though.” Her gaze penetrated his dejection. “You can pray.”
