STEP BROTHER DEAREST
We scattered fragments of ourselves in each place—scraps of fabric, chalk marks with no pattern, symbols that meant nothing.
Ian muttered as he dropped a torn piece of his sleeve onto the playground slide. “Feels stupid.”
“That’s the point,” Madison said, scanning the street with her binoculars. “He can’t catalogue nonsense.”
I added quietly, “Or if he tries, it wastes his time.”
---
The second layer came from ourselves.
Madison, once the most precise of us, started acting impulsively. Not careless—just suddenly, startlingly decisive. Choosing paths without consulting us, making moves we didn’t expect even as her teammates.