warnings: language, implied and mentions of violence
title and inspiration from bo burnham’s ‘art is dead’
It had been months since Shawn had returned home and the couple had been going through the motions of daily life. They took Ollie to daycare, Charlotte went to work and they played happy families for anybody that watched on. Their friends and family believed everything was fine, normal. Yet, inside their modest and well-kept home, things weren’t so rosy.
The initial yelling and fighting had subsided into a resigned silence. The arguments had become repetitive and pointless, neither of them budging on their views. The longer they were stuck in the cycle of pointless arguing, the more aggressive and heated the fights got. All too often, broken glass fragments littered their floor and fist-sized holes decorated their white walls. They realised they were getting nowhere with each other and just gave up on the fights. Neither of them wanted to frighten Ollie or shift his world around anymore that it had already had been, but both of them knew they couldn’t step on eggshells forever. There was a long overdue conclusion to this situation that was on its way, and they both knew it.