The Rosewood mansion settled into a tense quiet as the rumble of Henry's departing car faded into the distance.
It was almost midnight and Henry had been on a destruction rampage all day, yelling and destroying things while everyone cowered in fear.
Now that he had left, Jeff, Margaret, and Mika, stood amidst the wreckage, looking around the debris-strewn living room.
As Margaret and Mika set to work to clean up the living room, Jeff stood aside as he surveyed the scene of Henry's tantrum– a broken lamp, shattered vases, shattered glass table, cushions disemboweled spewing their innards onto the rug, toppled coffee stools.
Each broken piece on the floor seemed to hold a silent echo of the events that transpired earlier in the day.
"Aren't you going to help?" Mika asked, and Jeff glanced at him.
"That doesn't fit my job description. I was employed to cook, not clean after the boss' mess. I'm off to bed," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets as he walked away.
