A plate breaks when my mom drops the filthy pile of dishes into our sink. She slams the tap upwards. My sister does not do chores. She texts her boyfriend 400 times a month then makes up some cock-and-bull story about how the stupid phone company obviously made a mistake. I hear the glass shatter.

“What the hell mom!”, my sister screams as a second dirty plate smashes against the cream-painted wall, staining it brown.

“Just cleaning up some more, something you seem to be incapable of!”, this time, a ceramic chipmunk salt shaker erupts into 3 pieces. One of the pieces lands near my cereal bowl.

“Shut up mom! We do do chores and we do clean, you just wouldn't know because you aren't even home half the time!” Her foot stamps and her voice cracks on the last line. I thought that only happened in movies. I take another bite.

“I'm tired of all of this shit!” Another dish takes flight as she swears. “You don't clean! You don't help out! You just sit around all day on your lazy ass expecting everybody to do everything for you!” There's another broken plate, china this time.

I'm done my breakfast. As I left the table, I noticed the silence.

“Pick up your dish,” my mom says slowly and tersely. I look at it, then at my sister, and mother. I pick up the bowl, and throw it forcefully at the wall.