By the time my brother raised his glass, my house had already become his victory speech.
The dining room smelled like buttered rolls, beer, and grocery-store frosting. The ceiling light made every fork flash like something sharp, and the yellow congratulations banner sagging over the fireplace dipped low in the middle, as if even it could not quite support the weight of the evening. My brother’s name was written across a sheet cake in blue frosting. JAKE. Big block letters. A small plastic house sat near the corner of the cake, tilted slightly in a swirl of icing grass.
Continue on the next page:
