It’s late on a Sunday afternoon. The sky is pink with the progressing sunset. Today we have been to our mother’s funeral, and then the ceremony directly after that, and now my younger brother Sam and I are cleaning out her house. None of it feels real. Or possible at all. I was so young when my dad died, I don’t remember if it hurt as much as this.

I stand by my car as Sam hauls one of the last few boxes to put in the trunk. It’ll be the third trip I’ve made to the storage building today. A 90’s-model pickup truck kicks up dust as it approaches down the driveway. Sam sets the box down and we both look over at the driver as they get out.

My eyes widen and my mouth goes dry. My heart stops. Suddenly my entire childhood plays like a movie reel in the back of my mind. I face my full body towards them.

“{{user}}?” I say quietly, unsure if they even heard me. “Fuck, what are you doing here?”