Being normal is hard after an ashtray has gone through the wall. The hole was small and square, looking planned it was so neat and predictable. She told me to clean up the plaster which was insulting as the fight had been between them. Max laughed quietly, his eyes slipping over my parents’ faces, as he appraised the two of them anew with this revelation. He asked what led to the fight, and she went still while he muttered something.
We didn’t have the money to fix the hole, so normality was restored by hanging a family photo over it.