“What are you doing?”
My brother Tyler froze with three shirts dangling from one hand.
He was standing inside my bedroom in front of my open closet, looking less like an intruder than someone casually unpacking at a hotel.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I noticed the rest.
His television was against my living-room wall.
Two suitcases sat beside my couch.
A plastic storage bin blocked the hallway.
His sneakers were lined up under the bench by my kitchen door.
Flattened moving boxes were stacked outside in
