found drama

My brother and I are sharing a room like back when we were kids. Bunk beds and pale green walls. It’s the middle of the night. He wakes me as he comes back in. He’s stark naked and half-doubled over. In pain, clutching at himself. What’s the matter? I gotta go to the bathroom. Then just go. Why can’t you just go? I don’t know why. I just can’t. It hurts. I sit up, obviously concerned. Well should I take you to a doctor then? No. That’s OK. I think I can force it with something. I’ll be OK. I’m not so sure about that. There’s no convincing him otherwise though.

About Rob Friesel