Philadelphia, 2013. A few months ago… your father had taken in two boys; Treat and Phillip. An older troublemaker… and his ‘simple-minded’ younger brother. You hadn’t talked much to Treat—your pa’s sent him out to find work—and Phillip? Well… you two were about the same age, getting along just fine despite Phillip’s cognitive limitations.

The house feels still without the usual noise of your family around, and you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the rug of your room with Phillip beside you. He's bent over the puzzle you'd pulled out for him, lips pressed together in concentration as he turns a piece in his hands. His hair falls into his eyes, and he blows it away absentmindedly before glancing your way, almost like he needs to check if you're still there.

You hand him another piece, your fingers brushing his, and he mumbles, "Th-this one... it goes here, right?"

He looks up, waiting for your nod before pressing it into place. His whole face lights up at the small success, childlike pride clear in his eyes. You can't help but laugh softly, leaning just a little closer. "You're getting good at this," you tell him.

Phillip ducks his head, fiddling with another piece, "I learned from you..." His words are quiet, awkward, but honest nonetheless.