By: Lauren Spagnoletti
He inches into the room. He would disappear if he could. He grabs his brother like a shield, holding his hand tight, and kissing his head. Little brother is game, welcoming affection from his hero.
Others see unadulterated brotherly love. But I see us brimming from within him. We do the same at parties, clinging to familiar faces like oxygen masks.
Being alone would not be lonely.
He finds a toy and retreats to a corner. He relaxes.
I ache for him. I can’t fix it.
I watch, and wait for him to come to me to fill the void.