Today's OneWord: Fought

I had fought with my brother many times, and yet I didn't want to lift a finger against him now. Not while he was in the hospital bed, white sheets and all, everything pearly and sterile and way too bright for my liking. The tubes, snaking together in large, unfriendly coils, did not help the mood either, and I set the flowers down carefully as if worried I'd break something in the room.

"My least favorite plants," my brother grunted. "You're an asshole."

I smiled, eyes watering - because of the flowers, I told myself. "I know."

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