“Shut up and listen! Stop interrupting me!” She shouted at the child.

She was livid. Her nostrils flared and deflated like a skirt on a windy day.

Her bloodshot eyes painted a fiery tapestry.

Her eyes shot flaming darts at her object of scorn.

The young child bent over his toys.

He pretended to be oblivious of the rantings and ravings of his mother.

He was used to it.

He continued to build his Lego house; he wanted to see how long it would last this time around.

He silently started the countdown, one, two, three, four.

At the count of three, she stopped shouting, looked at him, and apologized before leaving the room.