19
By the time I got home that night, I was exhausted, but I had one more thing to do before collapsing into bed. My brother sat on the living room couch, watching television. Perfect. After a long week of drafting legal documents and offering pro bono advice to people charged with violent crimes throughout the greater Capital Region, my brother liked to chill on the couch with the TV and some paperwork. As expected, his laptop sat open on the cushion beside him, and papers spread along the surface.
He sat up when I entered. “Do you want to sit down? I can clean up a bit.”
I pretended to consider his offer. “What are you watching?”
“Mets vs. Red Sox, 1986.”
“How many times have you watched that game? It was before I was born.”
“Look, there aren’t that many Mets World Series games to
