An intervention
The atmosphere in the Miller’s house was a very tense one. The silence felt so thick and oppressive that Zoe cleared her throat to say something and then snapped her mouth shut as soon as she opened it. James stood near the television, practically foaming at the mouth, and Evelyn was seated on a stool that was placed close to the couch, her eyes downcast as though she were a child who was being seriously chastised by his parents. Her hands were in her laps and she fidgeted with them nervously, lacing her fingers together and then unlacing them, after which she would pick at an invisible lint in the hem of the short, flowery dress that she was wearing. James glared at her the whole while, while Zoe sat there and wondered what on earth their problem was.