Several weeks ago, as my husband and I were leaving a social event, he could sense I was upset, angry even. I walked to the car with firm footsteps, my heels clicking the pavement with force and a rapid cadence. My arms were folded across my chest. My lips pursed. We had a rather lengthy drive home, so I knew we’d have time to discuss this matter. He could sense I was fuming. He, too, was not happy, as part...