One Summer Night

I woke up at 2 in the morning as I had been doing every summer. At 13 years old, it was surprisingly easy to get up without an alarm at these times now. It had become my routine. My baby brother was crying. It was time for his bottle. I waited a minute to listen for shuffling feet. Maybe She was upstairs and would give it to him this time (for once). Silence. Without a reaction I swung my feet out of the bed and went into my parent's bedroom. I walked through the darkness to his crib, lifted him up, and carried him with me down the steps. 

Bottle. Mix. Water. Microwave. Test. Feed. Burp. Sleep (for the both of us).