The fridge light is the only thing cutting through the darkness. I shift my weight on the cold tile floor while curling my toes to keep them warm. I don’t want to break the moment. My brother sits on the counter, lazily chewing stale cereal straight from the box. For once, we’re not fighting. The heat of the argument from earlier lingers but here it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t look at me. He just stares ahead pondering. “You ever think about how cereal is just soup?” he asks. It’s stupid. It’s not even a real question, but I still snort.
Alex Mejia is a first-gen student at George Washington University. They like to write in their free time and listen to music!