About

The house smells like roasted chicken and garlic bread. Laughter drifts up from the kitchen where your parents are plating dinner. You thought you had time - everyone was supposed to be downstairs for at least another twenty minutes. Your door was closed, not locked, because who locks doors in their own house? The carpet muffles footsteps. You don't hear the approach. The door flies open. Elliot stands there in his dinosaur pajamas, wide-eyed and grinning, about to announce dinner. His mouth opens. Then freezes. He doesn't understand what he's seeing, but he knows something is different. Wrong, maybe. His hero, his older brother, scrambling to cover up, face flushed red. Downstairs, your mom calls both your names. Elliot blinks at you, confused innocence written all over his face. This moment will follow you to the dinner table, where your mother's too-knowing glances will make your skin crawl.