Brother
 She looked at her younger brother's face. His eyes were glazed over as if covered by a morning mist. Something was not right. He'd changed. His face, once an open window now had it's curtains drawn. He tied his shoes and headed for the door. She wasn't sure why but she knew she couldn't let him leave. She could always tell when something was wrong. Like the day a pack of bullies had pelted him with stones; his back a collage of purple bruises and specks of blood. As far as the school nurse was concerned TCP had fixed it. But it wasn't his physical state that concerned her. She could see something deeper was wrong; as if the stones were lodged inside his heart.

"It's too cold outside," She said. "Go and get a jacket."
He went upstairs. It bought her some time to try and work out what was wrong. But understanding her brother was like trying to see the bottom of a murky river. All to soon he rushed downstairs towards the door.

"You must be starving," she cried out,"Stay and have some lunch with me."
He stopped, looked at his watch then back at her. It was 10 o'clock.
"You're weird you know."
"Oy," she retaliated, "You can't talk to your sister like that."

He laughed, but a deeper laugh than usual.
"Okay you're my sister; beautiful and good at everything...but you're weird."
It was such a typical reply mirroring the way he'd teased her ever since he turned six and got cocky. It reminded her of the brother she used to have.
"Good summary of my character," she replied, "But you forgot something. I'm good at everything...especially understanding you."

He laughed. But not a real laugh; just a sound, an attempt to fill the moment as successful as trying to fill a paddling pool with a glass of water.
"Yeah," he conceded, "You're really good at it."

He reached for the doorknob and hovered over it for a second. Then he dropped his arm and sighed. Defeated. He stepped off the doormat and let his sister hug him. Her shoulder moist from the tears he was finally letting out.

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Rach
Short Story
Drama
writing Rach
The dreams we have no phrases for slip through our fingers into smoke
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Synopsis
A very short story
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