At 3 A.M., My Brother Dragged Me Out of My Bedroom While Dad Laughed—He Had No Idea What the Smoke Detector Had Recorded

It fit beneath the window.

I smiled.

For years, Aaron had moved chairs and cushions while explaining why he wasn’t responsible for upsetting me.

Douglas had straightened objects while refusing to answer simple questions.

Now I could move a table because I wanted it somewhere else.

There was no deeper reason.

No performance.

No attempt to control a conversation.