Boiling Point

His common weeknight begins with a car pulling into the driveway. Staring, he sighs and glides his tender fingers through his coarse hair. Perhaps a long day at work? He proceeds like usual. It sits on a burning stove top. Not full, nor empty. The aroma of delicious seasoning and sauce fills the air. But the burden boils in his head. The sitting steel continues to burn. The fever spreads, and it starts to bubble. He continues unaware, still focused on his day. Pressure— just too much to bear. The bubbles reach the surface and water pours to the ground.