"Brian…?"
I called out to him as he was vacuuming the living room. He didn't hear me at first. I struggled to speak any louder, but he noticed me standing and turned off the hoover.
"Oh, hi."
"What happened?"
I asked, looking around to see that the living room looked like it was in the process of getting a major cleanup after it had been hit by a storm.
"Mom happened."
I stumbled toward a wall, and leaned against it. Brian thought about coming over, but decided against it and just stood at where he was. He noticed another broken piece of glass in the corner and went over to pick it up. On the little shelf above it stood the photo frame of our family picture—the last one we had with Dad in it—without glass.
"What happened…"
"I'm sorry. She just… kinda lost control."
I felt a pang in my heart, but not the kind that I feel from my illness. It cut differently.
I tried to walk over to where Brian was, but my legs trembled and I eventually ended up just sitting on the floor.
