08-27 blogpost

[Note: Staff informs me that this file was not password-protected but was previously encrypted. Thanks for their effort.]

Title: A 2x4 to the head

Breakfast for dinner tonight. I can smell Finn's French toast from the bedroom. Still a weird thing to say.

I'm almost in the kitchen when Brandon steps in front of me.

What now?

"Sorry, quick lesson. No food until you're done."​

But I'm hungry.​

"And you'll use any excuse to get me out of the way. Not this time." He opens his mouth and closes, tries again. "What color is your shirt?"​

I look down. A plain shirt. Boxy.

Green.

​"Why do you wear that shirt?"

​I like it.

​"You like a lot of shirts," he moves closer. "Why this one?"

​I like the color. How it feels. How I look with it on.

​Brandon repeats. "It's how you look in the shirt. The shirt is part of the material of your appearance. You know this. Clothes reflect who you are or a preferred version of you."

​I get it.

​He shakes his head. "What color is your shirt?"

​I look down. Green.

​"How do you know?"

​Because I see it.

​"Stop looking down. Look at me."

​Can you explain what you're doing, please?

​"I'm thinking out loud. We're doing magic."

​Like a spell?

​"What color is your shirt?"

​Green.

​"How do you know?"

​Because I see it.

​Brandon shakes his head and moves his hand between us like he wants me closer. I don't move. "Because you wear it. When you wear the shirt, it's part of who you are. Your shirt is green."

My shirt is green.

"You think Sam is lying, hiding a monster?" Brandon holds his hand straight up and down on top of his head. "How do you expect to get through to him?" I shake my head. He weaves his hands together. All the little cogs mesh. "Start with what you agree on."

It's dinnertime.

He smiles. "It's dinnertime. I would love an egg and cheese sandwich."

I wish this would go away. But I will settle for food.