The Other Me,

Does not

Follow me down the stairs,

After I change from pajamas

Into the Burgundy school uniform,

But watches me

Descend

Into the living room.

It does,

However,

Lurk in the corner

Of the kitchen

The minute I enter.

Briceson is there,

Making breakfast

For the two of us.

His smoke brown hair

Is slicked back

From the gel he uses.

His dark hazel eyes

That hides behind blue framed glasses

Shifts from the plates in his hand

Over to me.

              "How did you sleep?” He questioned,

As he sets a plate of scrambled eggs

In my spot at the table.

              “Excellent!” I smiled,

Hiding the fact that

I was plagued by nightmares

That caused me

To awaken in a panic

And find

The Other Me,

Laughing hysterically.

          “How was yours?” I asked.

         “Agonizing. Didn’t come home till eleven last night.”

          “You shouldn’t work so hard! It might make you age faster!”

He grins, setting down his plate of eggs, “Har har as if I’m not old already.”

I worry about him a lot.

     I sat down in my chair and did the same, “I’m serious! Take some days off.”

     He grabbed his fork, “You and I both know that I have to work in order to support the both of us. Also, I’m picking up my check today. I worked more days this time too so it should be big.” He adds, “That means we’ll have some extra cash so if you need something, just tell me.”

More than myself.

He gives me a soft smile,

Scooping eggs onto his fork

And I smile back at him.

He’s too precious to work.

I wish that I can do more

To help.

You see,

Briceson tries to handle everything on his own.

Paying the bills,

Buying groceries,

Going shopping,

All the normal things adults do in their life.

But this country, will not allow

Children under 18 years old

To work.

They believe that,

It is a child's duty to learn

A proper education

To live inside

This mild dystopia,

So that when they face

Dangers,

They will be prepared

To fight.