Oliver was skeptical. So was his mother. Deciding that he was done having the uncomfortable conversation with his parents, he set his fork down on his plate and got up from the table without asking for permission. Neither of them stopped him. They understood all too well what it was like to feel like they were at the end of their tether. He needed some time to calm down. Unfortunately for him, their son inherited a number of their least attractive personality traits. His parents sat in silence listening to him stomp up the wooden stairs to his attic bedroom, breaking it only when they heard the slam of his door.