march. vol. 001 issue 02

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Beeker and his brother Dorian were best friends. They were eight months apart. Dorian was born premature; he came a full two and a half months before his expected birthday. They had a third brother, but he lived with their father, and they hated him deeply. They assumed it was Enn, this despised third son, who was responsible for their mother's and father's divorce.
When Beeker and Dorian were six years old, Dorian, in an attempt to impress his younger, impressionable brother, wrote a very long story about the first years of marriage of a young couple who very much reminded one of his own parents. The first draft was nearly one hundred and thirty pages long. It was expanded to it final length of one hundred and sixty-six pages. Dorian first showed his epic to his mother. He'd found her sitting at the kitchen counter, her hands around a small juice glass, staring out an open window. She didn't notice her son until, on his third attempt at calling at her, he got her attention. He handed the thick manuscript, packaged neatly in a faded red binder, to his mother as if he were a graduate student presenting his professor his disertation. His mother took the binder and said thank you to her son. She scanned through it carelessly and told her son that it was very good, sweetie.