The woman stands by the sink, 

hands sunken in bubbly water, 

she scrubs and scrubs at the dishes that drown underneath, 

her hands are red and raw but she doesn't notice, 

this is her job after all, 

in enters the man, 

the game has gone onto adverts, 

he strolls over lazily, 

hand on a glass of beer, 

that spills on the floor with every step, 

he throws the glass towards the sink, 

it hits the side and breaks, 

splintering into a million different pieces, 

it pierces the womans hand, 

cuts forming like the tide rushing in, 

but the man doesn't care, 

the game has started again, 

so he leaves, 

in enters the boy, 

he watches the football with his father, 

he strolls over distractedly, 

hand on a plastic cup full of juice, 

little droplets drip onto the floor, 

with every step he takes, 

he throws the cup towards the sink, 

copying his father, 

it hits the side, 

but it doesn't break, 

but the woman

knows someday that it will.