I suppose life could be easier, I thought to myself as I rolled the trolley down the supermarket’s aisle.
I could’ve maybe had a loyal loving husband . . . and maybe a better relationship with my parents, Maybe my brother couldn’t have gone missing. I gulp and try my best to push those thoughts right where they belong. For years I’ve learned how to cope with it. Don’t talk about it and don’t think about it. Forget about it. Forget about him.
I don’t know how parents could want to forget about their son but they did, and they wanted me to as well, less than a year after he disappeared.
My brother was 23 when he just vanished, he would’ve turned 25 this year, it hasn’t been long. No one knew where he went, no one knew why, no one knew anything, and his case turned cold.
He’s most
