Who is it hurting?

Yesterday we went to the library. I started throwing books in that bag like it was my day job. We walked over to the self checkout and I began to unload my loot. Cue scene:
Snarky hubs- “Why so many books? That’s too many.”
Me annoyed- “Why do you care? Who is it hurting?”
Daughter bumps towering stack and approximately 24 hard cover kids books plummet to the ground, like brick bullets wreaking havoc on my left foot.
I stuff the pain scream and hobble behind a bookcase, unsure if I’m going to pass out or throw up. Once the storm has passed a few minutes later, I limp back to the counter to reunite myself with civilization… Only to find my husband with a smirk on his face as he says, “You’ve got to admit that was funny. Who is it hurting?–And then you get hurt.”
I struggle not to release all the wrath in the world on him as I pass by.
“Too soon?” he says.
Ignoring him, I drag my assuredly broken foot across the room, up two flights of stairs and start to make my way though the last stretch of room to the exit. I look up, hubs is seemingly still pleased with the irony.
Me *rolls eyes*- “Okay fine, give me your camera. I’ll probably want to post this later.”

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