Stella
Silas waits for me outside my apartment building, his vintage muscle car parked on the side of the street. As soon as I step outside and see him, I smile and wave. He returns the wave but not the smile, turning to open up the passenger side door.
I slip inside and watch as he circles the car, glaring at whoever looks our way, and gets inside. Without another word, Silas starts the car and drives off, the sound of the purring engine filling in the silence and our ears.
“So,” I look over at my brother, keeping my smile strong, “how have you been lately?”
“Been fine,” Silas responds, not even looking over at me. I nod and pucker my lips as if I just tasted something sour.
“That’s good. Have you done anything cool recently?” I ask to try and continue the conversation. Silas simply
