I grab the nearest lamp, that expensive Tiffany one that had always been my mom’s favorite. Which made me hate it passionately. I smash it on the hardwood floor, waxed to perfection. The glass shatters into a million little colorful pieces. For an extra touch, I walk to the coffee table in the center of the living room, and knock over the wineglass I had been drinking from. The glass breaks cleanly in half and the wine stains the plush carpet like a pool of blood, slowly spreading. I look around at the disarray and smile. Exactly what I wanted.