He widens his eyes at me, curious and intimidating, having the desired effect exponentially. Little does he know me, my thoughts, but he knows how to push my buttons and that is all that matters right now. I don’t remember the last time we had a meaningless conversation and I like it. I like knowing that instead of getting to know me he is working on making me how he wants me to be. He is a realist, unlike me. I usually want to defy him, to be the rebel that he won’t ever let me be (thanks, dad!) but I know that he expects from me what he knows I can deliver. 

On the outside, I resemble him more than I would like to. The same hair, the oh so huge eyes, the round face. On the inside we could not be more different- or maybe we could, but not very. He smiles little, deliberately. He hides under a roar of laughter at stupid stand up comedians. He repeats and drills into our heads what he expects of us. He makes sure that what is needed is somehow found. 

With a lock of hair always sticking out of place on the back of his head, he works mysteriously. He has an openly secretive way of going about his business which is often questioned but never modified. He also has a quiet way of observing and not answering. And that is that.

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