---She'd came here everyday for the past few weeks. Always with some bullshit excuse, too.---
I shrugged, the same cheerful smile I'd forced on my face chuckled. Truthfully, thoughts of corroded astonishment lapped at my tongue in spiteful surges. "You know, really -" a tone of frustration left my lips as I spoke, and the side of me that knew I had to be polite in this situation held my restless, beckoning tongue.
She raised her eyebrow at me.
"I mean, er.. that is.. It really depends on the context," I explained.
The real questions she should have been asking, should have been to her managers. She didn't have any business here if she really was telling the truth. We didn't need any more publication or inspections than any other place on the block, especially with our exceptionally good reputation.
Besides, you could hardly call what she did an inspection, all she did was sit there and ask me the most plain, mundane questions any one could think of, and then go on to criticize my lifestyle, glaring her eyes at me and making snarky comments about my fashion or my decor.
I sighed, greatly vexed by the whole situation.
I wasn't listening to her talk at all once she went off on her turbulent, prolix fit. I gently breathed against my calloused fingers as they stroked my wiry facial hair, my eyes wandering to the far wall of the room, where there was a window, rain beating down relentlessly on our estate, drops of sky shattering against the glass, and next to it, seemingly suspended in the air behind a worn floral wallpaper, an aged portrait of my wife, and even, next to that, a collage of various scribbles from the children in my custody.
"Are you even listening?" the enraged woman asked, her harsh words interrupting my now peaceful thoughts.
"Eh, you know," I said,"I really have things to do." I made a motion towards the door.
_______________________________________________________________________________
---My dad's always so mean to that woman, I mean, she's never really done good or bad to us but there's no reason to treat her like that. Sheesh.---
I heard some thumping from upstairs, as usual. The kids always are loud like that, so it wasn't weird to me. At the time, I was drying plates, waiting for my Dad's appointment with what's her face to be over.
Drying dishes was not exactly a passion of mine, but it brought me a sense of peace, especially for something I'm always unhappy about doing when I think about it, but, it's one of those things you enjoy once you actually do it.
Sometimes, my mind would wander away from me, I would daydream about my love, his smile, his eyes, and sometimes, about the ocean. I always imagined green fields of succulents and briny waves colliding violently with rocky shores, the smell of the sea wafting around me. Other days, I dreamt of the forest. The nature-made structures towering above me, granting me shade from the harsh, unforgiving sun, or----
I gasped. I heard something break upstairs.
I batted my eyelashes in confusion, "Is everything alright up there?"
I hate it when things break. It always scares me.
...Oh...
An angry, middle-aged woman went storming out of my house. Her pink coat was scrunched up around her elbows and she had a clearly unpleased expression on her little, wrinkled face.
She left before I could say anything, but I knew exactly what angered her.
"......Dad!!!"
__________________________________________
---I swear to god, there's always some kind of Drama going on in this house...---
"It's so loud in here!" I angrily grabbed my pencil and a sheet of paper and stormed to my shared bedroom, which was downstairs.
I stepped out of the room to find an assortment of broken glass in the hallway, and Kent crossing his arms as he looked down at the floor.
"That was my favorite painting. Tsk tsk.." he shrugged.
"DAD!!!" Daniel shouted from downstairs, I know he was doing dishes at this time, wasn't he?
