He walked passed me with
plastic bags full of clothes.
I asked him what he was doing.

No response.
I asked him again
he said he was doing laundry.



I was oblivious.
He wasn’t himself that day.

No emotion.

Flushed face.

Quiet.
I left fifteen minutes later.

I didn’t know it would be the last time






I’d see him.

Dad picked me up with tears running down his face.
He tried to hide it but he couldn’t.

I knew something was wrong.
He sniffled and rubbed his eyes…constantly looking at his phone.
I asked him what happened.

He’s gone.

I couldn’t believe it.
My own brother left us.
I was in shock.

Couldn’t breath.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t move.

He lied to me.
He lied to all of us.
He didn’t care.

He was selfish.
I begged him to come back.

But he didn’t.
When I saw him in school,
my heart ached.

Almost two painful years later, he came home.

Couldn’t breath.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t move.
He was once gone…

He’s finally home.