Short Story: Or So It Seemed

A short story about the happiest, silliest time.

The closest I’ve ever been to my brother was one time in a furniture store and we were browsing, as a family, which meant he and I were just killing time, while mum and dad shopped prices and fabrics. And so we took turns on the couches, and chairs, pushing back the recliners, soaking up the comfort; those footstools we never had. And then, it was time to go. And my bro couldn’t get the footstool pushed back in – so he stood awkwardly up against the big chair while an eager salesperson who clearly did not know our dad went in for one final push. My brother did the same actually, leaning in
against the chair, so hopeful to make it click – like the safety belt message in the ad campaign. Dad told the guy in the store he was out to lunch, his prices obscene, his delusions so grand. And with that, we walked away, a family in unison. But the footrest on the recliner was like a comedy boomerang; the sound of the Roadrunner cartoons soundtracking our departure. My older brother was red-face embarrassed. But we laughed all the way home – and for days after, or so it seemed.