A friend told me that she always reads the first and last paragraphs of books before deciding whether or not to dive in. “If they can’t hook me, and then stick the landing, they’re not worth it.” I’m with her. Books are a huge time commitment. So are television shows.
Born and Raised
The young man mistook the butler for his uncle, as we all would, as we didn’t. Moments before, the young man was outside the door. We all knew how he got there, it was stuck in our heads; we could nail every lyric with little variation, and would continue for eternity. He held the knocker and rapped on the door and banged out back to life back to reality. The non-uncle, the butler, was much easier to lift. We wondered, too, where the young man’s uncle was around seven or eight. He should have been at the door on a day like today, a moving-in, to greet. This would be their first live rift. Many other rifts were already in place, and many more were to come.
The butler, on his way out, dropped the master from before the young man’s name. There used to be so much on the rug in the center of the room, but in this final moment it was clear. He hugged his aunt and his little cousin. He thought back to when all he could offer her was a lesson in rapping. Then it was only the young man and the unliftable uncle, and they stopped, and they understood. Once the young man thought everyone was gone, he turned off the lights. There was still someone upstairs with his pants down in the dark.
