Nine. Pretty

"Where is he?" Dad's voice sounded dangerous, filled with so much wrath. His hands were rolled in a fist, tugged against the armrest of his chair. Hard, his teeth were gritted. He glared at the floor intently, breathing slowly and deeply. 

The young dude standing beside dad's chair bowed his head, obviously fearful. "I-I don't know. He said he'll be here soon."

"Where is he?!" Dad hollered at the top of his voice. He didn't just holler, he kicked the stool which stood below his knee. Woah, woah, this anger was getting too hard. 

"I-I don't know, sir. He'll get here soon." The young man trembled as he spoke. 

Irritated, I gestured that he should take his leave. Dad could easily hit a glass against the innocent dude's head. It was better to prevent that. 

I sighed. "Being angry won't do anything. I think you should rather be grateful you didn't go bankrupt."