AcmeShorts

It was 4 AM and the microwave was beeping. Jake was home. I got out of bed, peed without bothering to close the bathroom door, and headed into the kitchen.

He sat at the table with his back to me, hunched over a plate of Chicken Divan.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked up. My brother was hot. Always had been.

“You’re home,” I said.

He grunted and went back to his casserole.

"Hi, silly," I hugged him from the side. I patted him on the head. I smoothed his hair. I squeezed his shoulder, a satisfying bunch of thick flannel in my hand. He leaned back suddenly, his head cradled in my arms. The eyes flickered left/right.

“Does my hair look thinner?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think so.” I touched his hair tentatively. It was thick and curly and shiny black. I moved my fingers through it to get a better grip. The lush tendrils tickled my palms.

“On top,” he directed. “I’m seeing a lot of scalp.”

I separated the curls. I coaxed a piece of dandruff along a strand until it fell free and fluttered to the floor.

“Well?” he asked.

“You have great hair,” I said. “It’s soft.”

He jerked away. “Put some clothes on,” he muttered.