Tell you how it Will Be.

Broken tiles and melting trays of chocolate filled the kitchen. He was trying to make sense of the fight he just had with his mother.
The curtains were stained with nicotine and the faucet leaked.
Mother never really understood him.
Dinner would never be made at this rate.
Rain would only fill the cup never the pool.
Mother would burn down houses, choke puppies, and sell fireworks to toddlers but never would a meal be presented before it's time.
Never.
Two crooked fingers wave a pall mall across the
Kitchen.
The word never from her lips. Never. Then for good measure she grabs the scotch from the cabinet and walks out to the back yard. A trail of smoke trailing behind her head.