My Brother Brought a Moving Truck to My New House

“This is my house.”

“You don’t need four bedrooms.”

“You don’t get to assign my square footage.”

The younger deputy looked down fast. Hiding a grin, probably.

Dad snorted. “You always were selfish.”

That one would’ve hit me ten years ago.

Maybe five.

That morning it just sounded lazy.

“I drove Mom to chemo for eleven months,” I said. “I paid her prescription continue reading …