The loud chime of my cell phone echoes off the high ceiling. A photo of Julian holding his Second Best trophy on graduation day covers the lit screen, along with his nickname in bold beneath. I slide my thumb across the screen and answer. “Julian.” “Did you lock up?” he asks while a door shuts in the background. I snort. “You can’t trust me to do that right?” It’s not difficult to imagine him glaring as he answers, “You Muñozes can’t be bothered to lock your front door at night, so forgive me for making sure.” “I’ve been locking doors since college, so never fear. I’ll do so when I’m done.”
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