The sun was falling behind the line of trees in the west when Dad came inside and took his boots off. I laid down my book down on the couch and got up to turn on the light. Dad came into the living room and sat down in the chair with a sigh. He kicked up his feet then reached for the remote and turned on the TV. I went back to reading. He looked at me then back at the TV. I saw him look but I kept reading. The sitcom audience laughed from the TV. When the commercials came he spoke. He asked about my day and I asked about his. The show came back on and he went back to watching it. I found my place in my book. When the commercials came back Dad asked about Mom. The question was harmless. A simple inquiry. It made me angry. I slammed my book on the couch. Dad sat up and put his feet on the floor. Our voices raised to drown out the television’s laughter. Volume never turned down. I stood up and he stood up. We both shouted and flung our arms in the air. I called him an unsympathetic asshole. He didn’t call me anything. I grabbed my book and my coat and stormed out to my car. Dad watched me spin rocks out of the driveway. As my tires squealed onto the highway he sat down and grabbed the remote. Then he turned the TV off.
Good level of tension. I like how all the talking happens in the commercial breaks. Perhaps a few more hints about the reason why the narrator is so mad about the question about Mom? And watch point of view at the end--if the narrator is gone from the scene, he can't know the dad is grabbing the remote and turning off the TV.
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