“So you got me a new hoodie?” My brother picked up the freshly laundered and perfectly folded sweatshirt and started examining it. “But it looks old!” he said, rather disappointed. I yanked it out of his hands and began folding it again. “It’s not yours,” I bit out. He eyed me carefully. “Then whose is it?” he asked. “Are you seriously going down this route again?” I asked, staring right at him. It took a whole week for him and me to be on good terms again. You see, my brother and I like to fester and it always takes at least one of us to cave before we start talking again. It wasn’t me this time. He let out a heavy sigh and began rummaging through my kitchen. “Is there anything to eat?” he asked, not looking at me. “I made some hummus and pita chips,” I offered as I gently put down the sweater.
