And then, instead of driving to an office, he drove to a coffee shop, and he sat there all day with his laptop, scrolling job listings, sending out applications, driving to interviews whenever he could get one.

Every day.

A whole performance of a life, staged for an audience of one, and she never suspected a thing.

Weeks passed.

Then months.

And the new job did not come.

It just did not come.

And a small, forgettable bump began, quietly, to become a catastrophe — while my brother kept getting dressed every morning and driving to the same coffee shop, unable, now, to see any way to stop the performance without the whole thing coming down.