Bounded By The Brother
He just pulled out of the parking area and drove through the city.
We eventually stopped at a quieter street and he cut the engine.
A few people were walking and only one shop still had its lights on across the road.
“Friday,” he said.
“Yes,” I responded.
He was quiet.
“I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
“And I’m not going to behave as if it was a mistake,” he said.
His words were quiet and measured. But his usual composure was missing underneath.
“But I need you to know that I know what it means,” he said, finally looking at me. “Where we are. What this building is and what my brother and father are watching for.”
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