IGNITE

one.

੭୧ 𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 ੭୧

"Okay," my breath was heavy as I strained to heave the overfilled cardboard box onto the shiny hardwood floor. The action stirred up a thick cloud of dust, twirling towards me and catching in the sunlight, creating a sparkling cascade like falling snowflakes. "That's the last one." A single droplet of sweat trickled down the back of my neck, playfully following the contours of my spine before disappearing into the waistband of my shorts.

Coppery strands of hair clung to my neck, tickling the sides of my face. Despite throwing open every window and leaving the door slightly ajar, the stifling heat refused to relent, weighing down on us heavily.

My brothers looked just as tired, sprawled out in the foyer with their limbs casually draped over the boxes we'd painstakingly carried inside.

My younger brother, Matt, propped himself up on his elbows and craned his neck to look around the large room. "This place is huge, Pip." He said in awe. His green eyes briefly locked with mine, sparkling with enthusiasm before shifting to the large windows that lined the living room behind us. "Are you sure this is the right place? I mean, this is just for you and Max? There's six bedrooms."

I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my t-shirt. "Scott said this is the right address," I answered, casting a glance at our older brother, who leaned against the kitchen island, idly scrolling through his phone.

He nodded, his eyes lingering on his phone for a long moment before slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans. "Yup, the email says 728 Anson Street." His tone was light and casual as he stepped further into the house, but the tension in his shoulders, the tightening of his jaw, told me that it was taking a lot to keep his composure.

Scott, Matt, and I had been inseparable since birth. Life had a way of knocking us down—hard—but the three of us had always managed to get each other back up, dusting off our knees and walking away stronger than before.

We'd hopped from place to place, shifting between distant relatives, until we finally saved enough to buy a small one-bedroom apartment in downtown Montreal.

Sharing a room with my two grown brothers wasn't ideal, but we made it work; it was our home.

However, as my senior year at Columbia rapidly approached and my co-op led me to one of the university's most famous alumni's studios in New York, I had no other option but to leave. So, I packed my life into a few too many boxes and left.

There was a silver lining, though. My childhood best friend—and the anchor to my sanity—was moving in the next day.

And so, I found myself standing in the foyer of a large, modern house in New York, my heart racing as I confronted the daunting mountain of unpacking that lay ahead of me.

Scott gave my shoulder a reassuring nudge. "Don't worry, you'll have it all decorated and ready before you know it," he said, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "I'm so proud of you, Pip."

His words hung in the air, pressing down on my shoulders and constricting my chest. "I'm going to miss you," I whispered, my voice trembling as I shook my head, clinging desperately to the last shreds of composure.

My older brother's arms enveloped me, his strong embrace grounding me. "Me too, Pip. You've grown up so fast. But you're destined for great things, you know that? You're going to go far."

"I'm not sure what I'm doing," I admitted, my words muffled by his shirt.

Scott responded with a reassuring pat on my head. "Well, it'll come to you," he said. "Don't rush it."