One Pebble, Then An Avalanche

The day after was perfect day: palmettos rustling in the light breeze, ducks chattering on the ‘lake’, rippling patterns on the stucko wall. He would have gone down to feed them.  My brother stumbles into the kitchen, rumpled, stubbly, and rubbing his eyes. “Coffee?” “Uh-huh.” He grunts. I never see him like this. We sip…