I tossed in bed for ten minutes before opening my eyes.

"Grace!" I morn as my head automatically jerked back. Her wide eyes were piercing mine, forcing me to revert my eyes as I pretended to look around the room.

"Jesus," I said, hoping she would stop looking at me.

"It's good to know you still pray," she joked. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I took one shot too many of tequila. And now, I'm waking up on a bed of leaves and twigs." Grace smiled. She then cautiously clambered into the bed with me. She tucked her head under my chin and wrapped her arms around me tightly.

"What do you remember?" I heard her whisper.

"Other than last night's vomiting session?" I asked.

Laying still, I closed my eyes. My mind drifted. It felt like I was falling back asleep. I was transported back in time. My younger brother Ross and I were out driving. I wanted to show off my new car. Ross wanted to drive around and take pictures for his portfolio.

Throttle, brakes, clutch, gear, I shifted the car into oversteer. The car slid sideways, loudly screeching and creating the intoxicating scent of burning rubber on asphalt. Ross held on to his door handle like a life raft floating in the deep sea.

"You jerk," he laughed. "I swear you're trying to kill me."

"Kill you?" I pulled the car to the side of the road, hopped out, and waved my arms around.

"Tada!" I yelled, feeling proud of the tire marks in the road. "I'm just trying to be your muse."

Ross bent down, snapped a photo, and walked around the marks.

"There's nothing interesting here. I need something more. Broken glass. Mud. Blood. Something that tells a story."

"Bah! Beauty is in the mundane!" I said with a horrible French accent that came out sounding more Indian.

"Beauty is in the mundane?" Ross laughed. "Was that on your GED test?"

I felt annoyed and walked back to the car. "Who's the jerk now?"

Confusion crossed Ross' face before hurt.

"Grey. It was a joke," Ross sighed as he got into the car.

We drove for five minutes in silence.

"I hate the mushy stuff," Ross said, breaking the silence. "But, I've always looked up to you. You're kind of a—a big deal. I don't know too many high school dropouts that taught themselves IT and now run their own department at a large corporation. Besides, you took beauty, so I had to take brains. Mom and dad were not giving me an option after the hell you put them through."

I looked back and forth between Ross and the road several times before talking. "You're right. I'm beautiful".

Ross snorted and laughed simultaneously. After forcing himself to calm down, Ross reached around to the back seat, grabbed his pad, and began sketching.

"What are you drawing?" I asked.

"I'm trying to catch the sunrise," he said, his pencil moving furiously. The roads were empty, so I slowed the car, trying to give Ross more time to capture the image of the sunrise.

"No. You're a big deal," I said. "I don't know anyone else more creative."

Ross' entire focus was fixed on the lines and curves of his page. As we near our parents' community, I opened the sunroof, slapped Ross on his thigh to get his attention, and pointed up. "Take a picture. It will last longer."

Ross looked at me for a moment as if he was irritated. With my knee catching the steering wheel, I raised both hands. "I'm just saying! This could be the money shot. I love your art, but what better way to capture the impulse of the moment than a photo?"

"Stop the car," Ross said. He shoved my arm as he grabbed his camera and perched out the roof. "Looks like someone's become an art critic."

I could hear the shutters of Ross' camera as the wind rustled.

"Go up a little," He begged.

I drove up a bit.

"This stupid camera won't focus. Go up just a bit more," he said excitedly.

When I stopped, I pressed the brakes and gas at the same time, causing just the back tires to spin. Smog rose. Ross began coughing.

"So, you are trying to kill me," he accusingly joked as he ducked into the car. "Don't move yet. Let me try my phone."

Ross climbed back to the roof. Moments later, he sat down, fist-pumping. "Got it!" He said with a broad smile. Ross then rotated his camera and took off his hat. "Look this way, my muse," he called. We took several selfies. As I slid my foot off the brakes, I gazed at Ross for a long second. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

I turned off the main road. The lights that suddenly appeared in front of me were blinding. I felt pressure on my knees. The only thing I could hear was ringing in my ears as the airbag in front of me inflated. Falling glass rained down from the windshield. The seat belt felt like a knife against my chest when I realized that Ross was no longer in the car.

"Greyson, are you okay?" Grace called, bringing me back into the present moment. The machine next to the bed must have started beeping because the nurse ran into the room.

"Ok, love. Let's help you relax," she said while adjusting the machine.

Grace squeezed my hands. She didn't say much after that. Instead, she watched me waiting expectantly for something.

As the minutes ticked on, I started counting each breath I inhaled and exhaled. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking as I watched the long hand move from the bottom, circling to the top.

"While you were sleeping, the cops came by," Grace said after some time. Her voice cracked with each word. "They found a small black notebook at the scene. The driver was a city worker. His log says he was counting down to retirement. Seems he pulled an all-nighter that night and two other overnight shifts that week. The city wants to settle." She snarled, gritting her teeth, "like that's going to fix this."

I said nothing. I felt nothing. Grace studied me for a while before whispering, "Sorry."

Moments later, she reached for her phone and began searching for an app. Her fingers scrolled to a carousel of pictures, and she handed the phone to me.

"Read the comments. Some art collector wants to offer $20,000 for the sunrise photo," Grace shared in excitement. "Isn't that awesome?" Grace stumbled on her next few words as she searched for the perfect sentiments. "Ross would have been excited— no, proud."

I stared at the pictures, thumbing back and forth between the images. There was no glass. No mud. No blood. It was mundane. It was beautiful. Tears fell from my eyes as I read Ross' last post.

'We've spent our lives chasing each other. Countless hours laughing, some crying. I'm blessed to call this guy my big brother. My source of inspiration. My muse. Look at us, catching sunrise. Love you @1dee_deb.'