My Brother Said One Sentence in the Bank Lobby

to paint.

My father stood near the counter in his gray jacket, the one he wore to funerals and meetings where he wanted people to think he was reasonable.

Derek was by the security guard, red-faced, hair wet, one hand still clutching his phone.

My mother was there too.

That part hit weird.

She hadn’t come to the hospital. She came to the bank.

She stood continue reading …