A Brief Epilogue Of A Middle Class Family

The man walked into his childhood home. The lights were out, and he stepped forward with his arm out, trying to find a wall with a light switch. His hand met something solid and cold, and spasmed, sending it falling off the mantelpiece. A few seconds later he found the switch and light flooded the living room.

The drone of the vacuum permeated the house as it ate up the fluffy grey ashes in the carpet. The man's mind was locked inside his skull; his facial expression was unreadable. He finished the task, unplugged the vacuum, and carried it outside. As he tossed it into the garbage can, he murmured, "Sorry Mom, but it's my choice what to do with him now." A haze of grey flew up into the air only to be met and captured by the falling lid.

He reentered the house, and sat down in the old recliner stationed across from the tv. He stared at the tv a few moments and then lept up and smashed it in with his foot. He turned back around, grabbed the chair, and pulled it onto its side. He then proceeded to pick up a lamp and hurl it through the window before turning out the light by punching the switch, finally getting into his car and pulling out of the driveway quickly and recklessly, only to collide with another car speeding down the road, ending in a messy collision that had absolutely no good consequences for anybody.