Somehow we always end up back where we started. We're going through that same, endless cycle, over and over. Some days I think that maybe that last time was the last time, but I'm always painfully mistaken.
It'll begin as a normal day, and maybe we'll even make it through breakfast without a hitch. We'll try to keep the mood light; Maggie, my younger sister, will tell one of her jokes, the ones we've all heard so many times we've memorized the punch-lines. "Where does a king keep his armies?" she'll say, and we'll wait for her to declare, proudly, as if for the first time, "In his sleevies!" A quick laugh will be shared, for her sake, and then we'll all get around to our business us kids to school, them to work.
It usually starts when we get back home. Something, anything, will be wrong, and they'll take it out on each other. Simple at first, just questions about why the sink isn't clean or something along those lines. But it'll get worse, it always does. I'll drag Maggie