Sixteen
It hurt to move. It hurt to think. Matt did not want to get out of his truck, let alone tackle the stairs to the second floor apartment he shared with his brother Luke. He was no masochist. The tree-lined sloping street was almost empty, a soothing sight in the half-light left by the recently set sun. He could just put his head back and sleep sitting up if it weren’t for the fact that it also hurt to not move.
He slid out, moving like the old man this week had made him, then looked up at the converted Victorian house. According to his mother, it was mellow and charming. She was probably right. Tonight it just looked high and all stairs. He climbed the outside stoop, then the inside stairs. Did not enjoy any of it, not even making the landing. Still had to drag his tired and achin
