Quarter Life Crisis: Step Nine: Survey


“Sean!” Lauren yells, sitting on the floor in the kitchen, Sean standing in the entryway with his jaw and fists clenched. Pots and pans litter the tile, Lauren’s hair a frizzy mess above her head, the neck of Sean’s shirt stretched, a tear at the bottom right. Harmony’s crying in the background, and tears stream down Lauren’s face as she points in the direction of the front door. “I don’t want to fucking hear another word. Get. The fuck. Out.”


Sean storms downstairs and tosses his suitcase into the back of the car, resisting the urge to throw a rock through Lauren’s car window only because he can see Harmony watching him from her bedroom.

“Fucking bitch,” Sean says, gets in the car, and drives away.

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