SHUFFLE:

Almost everyday when I come home from school, my brother is drunk.
He's always sitting on the sofa passed out.

I silently walk in and pull the headphones down so it rests against my neck. I scratch my neck as I walk over to the refrigerator. Damn thing is empty.

Crack my knuckles. It echoes in the ('cept for the snores) silent house.


Sometimes I come home and he is watching TV, with a beer in his hand.

I put the headphones on and the refrigerator is full of rot.

The house is so loud I close my eyes.


Rarely I come home and he is not there.

I put the headphones down.

Where is the refrigerator?

I am broken