PinPoint - A collection of short stories

Restaurant*

*Cursing

We all sat there;
Silent.
I find myself idly doodling on my napkin with the pen I brought in.
My mind wanders:
Do you remember when we used to have so much to say that we stayed up late in the night?
Do you remember when you could feel love and euphoria hang in the air instead of tension, hate, and disparity?
Do you remember when we would laugh? Not yell, stomp, scream, throw things, argue and cry?
Do you remember when we loved each other?
Suddenly I notice the ink is bleeding; the moisture from fallen tears letting the ink explore the empty napkin.
The restaurant we went to played salsa music, but the soft music soon bled into the sounds of other conversations, creating a deafening roar even when the sound was not very loud.
My mother lifts her finger, ignoring her cold meal.
She opens her mouth - silence.
She drops her hand, facing her food.
My father glances up from his own meal, watching her.
The tension is almost tangible.
Finally, she speaks.
Out of her mouth flies words that demand attention;
"We need to fix this,"
My father throws a sharp response back, and soon they've forgotten their meals, the restaurant and everything else around them.
The more heated their "conversation" becomes, the more I crave to be alone; then I could block out the world.
I imagine the familiar room in which I spend so much time.
Behind that door lies a cluttered, pink sancuary.
I could simply close the door, seperate the world from me; my misery and doubts from my person and interest.
I won't have to listen to the thunder of opinions clashing together like the wild waves of the ocean.
I won't have to feel the heavy burdens that are so similar to thick, heavy drops of water clinging to my clothes to weigh me down.
My worries are like dandilions; a
virus-like weed.
Delicate and vulnerable looking.
You can pluck an individual worry from the vast fields of my mind - But be careful!
Even when touched by the softest of winds, the seeds will take flight and spread, choking your mind with endless waves of worry and drea-
"When the fucking Hell have I ever said that, Tom?!"
My mother'd loud voice pierces my thoughts and I finally realize;
Our family is falling apart.
We are dying.

ᴮᴸᵁᴱ ᴮᴼᵞ