“If you’re reading, big brother, would you read to me?”
Klavier crept into the room. Kristoph was curled onto his bed with a large, heavy book. There was lavender incense burning on the nightstand, and a candle lit as well.
Kristoph sighed– beckoning his little brother into his arms with one hand. “Come on then.”
Klavier curled into his lap, and looked at the book. “What is it?”
“Sherlock Holmes. It’s a mystery– and maybe a romance.”
Klavier cocked his head.
“Well,” Kristoph flushed, “I think it’s very romantic in any case.”
It’s misty and raining out, there’s classical music (Tchaikovsky) on, and in my mind I’m back at the old flat on Baker street and someone’s making tea.
