Wet Sidewalks

He painted in brown. He painted in grey. Such fortunate brushstrokes they were to be his. He'll always be better than me. He'll always be first. I'll always be second.

Always.


He took the candy. And ate the wrappers too. Tiny chocolate footprint making a path from his fingers to his lips. He didn't notice me looking. As he counted his errors.

He didn't notice.

Because he din't have to.