It was weird.

One day I was an only child, and the next, the next I had an older brother.

My parents didn't even warn me.

Just one day he arrived and took my room, and I had to sleep in the basement.

He arrived in a large, waxed, green coat.

I remember the water droplets that hung to its surface, as he leaned over me and offered

me his hand.

I ran behind my mother's leg and stayed there.

She smiled back, and my mother apologized for me.

That was that.

It was obvious after a few days that he was their favorite.

I mean, I had a lot of issues, and I knew I was a disappointment to them.

I visited a therapist twice a week.

I didn't talk that much.

I never did.

I think that was my main problem.

I was fine.

My parents thought otherwise.

One day my new brother came downstairs and handed me a used painting set in Canvas.

This is, I ignored him, except that he accepted me.

He didn't say anything.

It's that he set up the easel and began to paint.

...