Tension

Tension.

Tight, heavy.

It presses down as the four eat silently.

One looks down, hunching into himself.

Two glare from next to each other.

One looks at the two in worry.

And the tension presses them all further down.

The first finishes, and stands as quietly as possible.

His dishes go to the kitchen and he returns to the side of the fourth..

He is excused.

Just in time to hear the two glarers yell.

Just in time for the world to turn to hell.

Again.

The next night it is the same.

Tension presses down.

One hunches in his seat.

Two glare.

But one,

One is gone.

And silence reigns.

Broken only by a small voice,

asking to be excused.