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Weekly Contest #47
You know it’s coming. You can feel it building all night. He was in an ugly mood when he came home – bad day at work, but you still hope. Maybe it will pass. Then dinner doesn’t meet with his approval. It’s overcooked, it’s undercooked, it’s spaghetti, and goddammit, she should know that he hates spaghetti. Last week, he loved it, but never mind. You look at your mother’s face and you know. When he throws the baseball mitt at your head because you left it in the yard, you know it’s going to be a really bad night. And it is.  ...
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