Brother

by Ania Ahlborn

Maybe facing his fear and allowing their limbs to tangle together would cause some of that magic to rub off on him. Maybe drawing his hands across her bare skin would make him a better person. Perhaps it would erase all his wrongs, would let him start over, be someone new.

The air was always better when the world was sleeping. It made it easier to breathe.

some people get addicted to feeling bad because whenever they feel good they feel guilty.

But a lifetime of being afraid couldn’t be cast off like a worthless hand-me-down. He was no superhero. His fear was too ingrained, as much a part of him as a fingerprint.