Rudy’s angry.

At Brad.

Because his room is a mess.

Again.

As usual.

Rudy’s shoulders are hunched.

His chest puffed with air.

Arms lifted off the sides of his body.

His face scowling.

His feet stomping.

He stands tall, threatening, intimidating.

Brad lifts himself off his bed.

Plants his feet firmly on his bedroom floor.

Stands toe-to-toe with Rudy.

And looks his dad in the eyes.

Surprised, Rudy has nothing to say.

Doesn’t respond.

Is taken aback by the fact that his son is no longer a little boy.

A boy that needs to be told what to do.

No.

No more.

Rudy stomps his heavy feet out of the room.

Brad feels validated.

In control.