Thicker Than Water

His heart was undone.

More, she had undone it, with her smiling eyes and auburn hair. He’d undone himself, too, but that was a longer process, one that had taken years.

“I live my life like a book. I try to find the most interesting characters.”

Over eggs and coffee, I remember all the things we’ve done over eggs and coffee; laughed, cried, co-existed how siblings do. Looking at him, his crumpled clothes and young face, I think I'll never love anyone as much as I love my little brother.

“Sometimes I feel like the whole world is moving and I’m standing still,” he says.

“Maybe it’s that you’re moving and the whole world is standing still.”

“Maybe.”

“Why’d you two break up?”

“I think the same reason you and Glenn did.”

“What’d you love about her?”

He thought. I liked watching him think, the fireworks exploding in his blackened eyes.

“Her potential. I always fall in love with potential.”

“I’m a victim of my own optimism,” I nodded.

“That’s a sad thing to say.”

“With men. I am with men. I love what they could be, not what they are. And I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late, until the fiction looks like fact, until the character looks real.”

“We both live our lives like novels, then.”