On a dark night, when they were sitting on the back porch swing, just them and the crisp winter air, she spoke something she never had before.

“I used to have a brother.”

He looked over, but her gaze was focused on the scenery beyond, a faraway look in her eyes. Like she could sense his presence nearby, his spirit in the air, his soul in the sky.

“He was so kind and funny. He would drive me to Sonic after school if I had a rough day. He’d tackle me on the couch whenever I’d beat him home from soccer practice. He would always make the stupidest jokes, and I would always laugh because they were funny.” She paused, looking up to the stars, tiny spectacles dotted on the extended black canvas. It was beautiful, like a pool of ink, bled into the page of the sky.

“No one understood our bond. We were… special. We got each other, and our humors were linked. It could be the randomest, dumbest thing, but because it was us and it was coming out of our mouths, it was funny, and we’d laugh. We could read each other. Know when we the other would need a hug or a laugh or someone to sit close with. It was beautiful.”

Her voice was softer now, the way she spoke of him was like a dream, something faraway you wish to come to you, but knowing it’s as far as the canvas in the sky. And yet you still look up at the stars, and you still hope. Her voice was full of hope and love and something… beautiful.

She had lost her brother. But he was still in her heart. And he would remain there, huddled in the corner, his presence rippling inside her with each breath she took, his heartbeat steady with hers.