The sweater I kept.

Dear you,

My brother left a green sweater at my apartment eight years ago. He asks for it every Christmas. I say I will post it. Neither of us follows through.

He lives far away now, in a house I have only seen on a screen. I know the corner of his kitchen where the signal is strongest. He knows the sweater is in my bottom drawer.

When he visited in April, I put it on his bed. The next morning it was folded neatly back in the drawer. On top was a note: see you at Christmas.