The shadow was still stopped on, the now dimmed, painting Cafe Terrance at Night by Vincent van Gogh. Just about everyone but Brandon was starring out the kitchen window trying to figure out who it was. Slowly peaking through shades.
Aunt Rachel slowly mouths "Bradon. Get away from the door." Brandon shakes his head back and forth until he standing up on his tippy toes. He leans against the door and looks through a small circle no bigger than a dime. A smile appears on his face and he pulls the door open.
"Dad!"
"Sorry guys," he takes off his black jacket that goes all the way down to his knees. "I left my house keys here."
Like a choral everyone responds, "Hello Mr. Nicks." and we all go back to scarfing down our food.
"Do you want anything dear?" my aunt says handing him a plate.
"Nah," he pushes the plate back. "I think I'll just go take a nap."
After breakfast everyone heads home. "Hey, can you help me shoot better?"
Brandon throws a scowl towards me. "No. You're fine. Just practice on your own if you want to get better." I can see in his eyes that he doesn't care. I hear his feet pounding on the stairs. I follow him up and he is sitting on the bed tapping away on his phone.
I knew he never changed. He is back to his old self. Not caring about anyone else. I can't believe that I fell for this.
"Fine. I'll be outside."
