This Was What I Meant When I Said Some People Are Pointless

Blood on the carpet, on the couch, amongst the broken glass from the back door strewn like spilled sugar. Blood of a father, of a son, of a driver's ed teacher with a dog and a keychain garnished with gas station rewards cards. A quiet afterthought, raspberry drizzle on a small slice of store-bought cheesecake. The blood of a surprised man.