Friday is full of food, booze, and tiredness.
People are everywhere. Some are sleeping on sofas whilst the TV blares, drool dripping steadily onto fake pearl necklaces and glitter covered clothes. The rest are slumped in hardback chairs around the dinner table, bloated stomachs spilling out from under dirty t-shirts, eyes dull and drooping as they insult others, yet aim their words at each other.
The clocks tick on as I sit, rotting with them.
She leaves first, the only face in a world of mirrors, and it seems like I'm alone...but then he enters.
A beautiful whirlwind disguised as a statue. his eyes shine as he looks at me and suddenly I'm free. He's never been my brother more than now.
Now that I know, I can't stop myself from gravitating towards him, desperate to tell him that I can see his soul, and that it's perfect no matter what anyone says. So we sit, as the house slowly empties and the hours climb higher, just being.
And in this minute no one is hidden.