After that, people mostly kept their distance.
Years passed.
I graduated high school.
Then college.
I moved away.
My parents stayed in the same house, with the same closed door at the end of the upstairs hallway.
My mother got older around the eyes.
My father grew quieter.
And I became the kind of adult who could function perfectly well on the outside while still measuring every crowd by whether my brother might be hidden inside it.
I saw him everywhere.
In boys crossing college lawns.
In men pumping gas.
In strangers turning their heads at restaurants.
A certain posture.
A certain laugh.
Dark hair under a baseball cap.
For one breath, my heart would stop.
Then the stranger would turn fully toward me, and the truth would settle back into place.
