He isn’t here.

I flew home today after a month and a half of being back in New York. I’m so used to Ed either rushing out to help me with my luggage or jumping out of his seat when I arrive that it was so deflating to see neither of those things happen today. Even while sitting in the living room, I still had the feeling he was there, and that any minute, he’d walk through the front door. His desk drawers have been completely cleared of their contents. When I opened his closet, once filled with a large collection of no-iron dress shirts, slacks, and fancy ties, it was already emptied with just rows and rows of empty hangers staring back at me. This sinking sensation came over me from my throat to my stomach when I saw this; he’s really never going to come back ever again. I’m never going to see my brother again.

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