He skimmed some chunky milk off of the top of what he poured into his glass and sniffed his finger.
I slid my chair up to the table and put cereal in my bowl.
He made a disgusted face. “Damn,” he said and sighed tossing the whole glass into the sink. “You’re gonna have to eat it dry,” he told me. I frowned.
“You know mom won’t be home for a while, right?” He asked.
I looked up at him and tilted my head to the side. “Again?” I questioned.
“She took off with the guy on the Harley.” He matter-of-factly informed me.
That’s the thing about Beau, he doesn’t sugar-coat anything. He is a great big brother, always looking out for me. I am 8 and he is 15, but he doesn’t make me feel bad and he always tells it like it is.
He is not like mom.