My brother almost burned down the house.
Careless smoking, not on purpose, though on purpose might have been better, in a way.
He burned a sofa, his favorite sofa, folds out into a bed, in front of the TV in our parent’s basement.
It’s a sick smell.
I used to think he was in love with Becky Fletter, wouldn’t admit it.
Maybe his life would have been better if he had been in love with her.
He was in love with her dad’s ‘Vette. Hung out with Becky Fletter because she turned sixteen four months before us and he was convinced she’d give him a ride in her dad’s ‘Vette.
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