Slippers
By Estel Elendil

Walking down the hallway of my house, I couldn't help but notice the quiet. No one is really talking. Just going along, doing our separate chores. The entire rhythm of the family is off. We keep to ourselves, like we can't trust anyone now.

I turn the corner from the kitchen and head into the entryway towards the stairs, a basket of clean laundry in my arms. My brother comes out of the study, pushing the vacuum cleaner. We avoid each other's eyes. Ever since last Friday, I hadn't wanted to look at my brother. Maybe I didn't want to except that he was the same person, wanted to pretend it was someone else entirely. I can't stand the look on his face so I turn my gaze to the floor. And am greeted with the sight of my mother's slippers, the ones with big fuzzy purple flowers. On my brother's feet. I can't help but smile.

As my brother slips by me I call out.

"Hey!"

He turns, startles by what is probably the first friendly words he has heard since he got caught.

"Nice slippers."

He glances down at his flowery feet, and then looks up smiling slightly. I grin and make my way upstairs with my laundry.

I feel so much better. He is still my brother. I don't care if he's the older one the thought of him getting hurt kills me. I'll always be his sister, concerned about him the most. No matter what stupid things he does.

"WHAM!"

An object hits me in the back of the head and lands on the steps in front of me. I hear chuckling from the kitchen. I look down and laugh. A slipper, with big, fuzzy, purple flowers.