Marcus“What’s this?” Michael asked. He held up the porcelain squirrel Mariah had given me for about three seconds before it fell to the floor. Just like the mug. And just like the framed photo of Dawn and me in the mountains. Michael and I might share the same blood, but he did not have the same respect for neatness that I had.
“Okay, buddy. Time to go outside,” I said, trying my best to be patient. When Michael and Sellah arrived this morning, Dawn had already left, which was probably a good thing. Because instead of knocking on the door, Michael walked right in while I was eating my cereal, climbed up on the stool next to me, and started telling me what we were going to do today. Sellah had excused herself with a small smile and disappeared somewhere, and now I was stuck with a seven-ye
