Vivienne Hart:
“These days I have been getting too weak.” My elder brother who is most commonly referred to as Old Master Hart says, resting on the bed. I am facing the counter, eyes twinkling at the bottle of medications.
“What did you say?” I pretend not to hear, my eyes running through the counter. Old Master Hart stares at me with what I assume is not suspicion.
“I am just weak, that’s all.” He says. “Pass me the meds please.” His voice is hoarse and tired, the effect of the meds that I had Victor switch out. Smiling internally, I walk towards his bed with the bottle of meds and swipe a glass of water from his bedside table.
I pass two pills to him and he drinks it weakly. “Are you taking the meds regularly?”
“Yes, I am. Every single day,” he wheezes and I pat his shoulder gently,
