I think about how their lives are so strangely their own, how we can never really meet and know a person, not even our brother.
“How do you know someone didn’t dream you up? A child, maybe, asleep right now in”—he waves his hand—“China. And when that someone wakes up, you’ll cease to exist.”
“I’m not crazy, you know.” My brother Rob slouches in the passenger seat as we head down the highway toward his apartmen…