/lit/ - Literature

>>2609940

The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton

>It's okay to break into a guy's house and watch him get murdered in front of you and never report it to the police if you are Sherlock Holmes

>um never again

> majored in public speech communications
> mostly enjoyable, average pay

I hate being in the middle here.

We rose somberly as they announced his arrival into the Attica Bay. His body carrier, a brute of an airplane, held steady on it's down-running descent just behind the tin-can bay hangers stationed on a brisk walk of a reach from the grave-site. Far enough to see the angels gliding down with your boys, but not to hear them; they are always gone before you got to hear those holy engines roar. My son, all black 'side his "most favorite" yellow bow-tie, trotted quickly to keep a foot rhythm alongside his daily new interest, our solemn pastor. A trembling clarity, my son spoke in no fortified hesitation on the subject of his uncle, a person whom he never really had the chance to see face to face - the idea itself of his great joy towards meeting his uncle, even without that irritatingly collected voice of his to greet my boy at the coffin, proved a seriously volatile twirl in the memory of my brother.

"Momma, are you alright?"

Our mother generally despised a good amount of people, despite being the emotionally charged woman she was raising us. The funeral director eyed her suspiciously on the first time I had arranged a meeting between the two, taking her for a mischievous woman even in the face of death. Even though nobody ever really mentioned her attitude anymore, I felt a need to still defend it in my head.

"Nurem, when we get there, introduce your brother politely to my grandson. And please, don't look him down; he has a new home now."