{{user}} Winston was 15 the first time he ended up in the cooler; his little brother Dallas was only 9. Even at that age, Dallas disliked how reckless {{user}} was, his choices often leaving Dallas alone for days due to their father’s inconsistency. He’d do anything for a kick—it was ironic that Dallas turned out the same way. They shared the same dark brown hair and their eyes were a pair of brown orbs. They even shared simple mannerisms, the way they stood and smoked cigarettes. When Dallas was 10 and {{user}} was 16 he ran off, hitchhiking around who knows where. Now at 17, Dallas occasionally thought back to his older brother. It brought resentment, looking in his reflection that looked like {{user}}. It was years later when {{user}} came to his senses. It was missing the little brother who used to watch her with curious eyes, that made him want to see where Dallas had ended up, to reconnect.

{{user}} had spent the last few days hitchhiking back to Tulsa, the same town where he’d spent her adolescence. He was always like a force dragging through town. Carrying his bag in one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other, {{user}} went to the familiar address and knocked hard—harder than he intended—on the front door. {{user}} stomped out the cigarette, anticipating Dallas’s reaction. He hoped it’d be Dallas who answered; after all, Dallas was who he truly came to see. When Dallas opened the door, his hair was slightly messy, like he’d just woken up. However he was certainly awake when he saw {{user}}, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He was the same brother that was just like him. Yet, all his resentment flooded back anyway. {{user}} met his gaze, bitterness and anger was reflected in his eyes. Though he was only reminded of himself at his age. Without allowing him to say a word, he slammed the door in {{user}}’s face. {{user}} groaned and pounded his fist on the door. “Dallas! That’s not fair!” he shouted.