May 4th, 2066

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Tonight's the night my mother will be going upstairs. We haven't heard anyone else come into the house, but it's possible someone crept in quietly. It's hard to hear anything but the loudest noises, down here.

Since I'm just waiting out the clock, I guess I should write about something else from my past. I don't want to dwell on something sad, again, so I've been trying to recall more pleasant memories.

This one is a bit hazy, but I think I've got the gist of it. Hopefully more details will come to me as I'm writing.

Before my brother passed away--ah, I guess this one is a tad depressing, but it's mostly positive--he and I had a mutual favorite author (one of my many favorites), so we both went to one of the author's book signings.

We gave him the usual spiel (talked about what his work meant to us, told him we had read all of his books countless times, and things like that) and were about to go on our way when he invited us to join him for a card game after he was finished with the signing.

It was a trading card game--one my brother and I both enjoyed--so we eagerly biked home, grabbed our cards, and returned to the bookstore. Once the signing was done, we followed one of our favorite authors to a coffee shop next door and just... played cards with him.

We tried to seem cool and calm, but we definitely failed. I lost my match on purpose, but my brother didn't have the common decency to lose his. We never got another chance to play cards with the author, but he did remember us the next time he came to Kansas City.

I just realized I can't remember which author it was. I also can't remember my brother's name. My mom says it's Michael.

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