Family Dinner

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I sat at the dinner table, drowned in the screams from my parents. I remember when they used to not be like this, they would hold hands and laugh. Though as I grew older there cover was blown and I was able to recognize their fake love for one another. Dinner was always the worst because we could all just ignore each other until then. My father cold and emotionless usually started our ritual for fighting by rudely commenting on the food. “There is no meat in this meal. You can’t have dinner without some meat,” he said. My mother frail but with a mean temper would then begin ranting and raving about how she had just spent an hour on this blasted meal and she didn’t give a damn of what he thought. Thus the fighting would continue leaving me right smack in the mess. They would go back and forth, growing louder and louder, never backing down. I couldn’t take it anymore. Why couldn’t they just get a divorce? They would never end. It is driving me into insanity. “STOP,” I screamed. The table was silent. Eyes gazed at my sudden outburst. I finally shoved some meatloaf in my mouth to enjoy a nice family dinner.





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