Bruce

My brother had just fed me.  And I can't help it, I feel obliged to at least clean up.  It seems only fair.  So, I'm standing at the sink in Bruce's kitchen on a rather gloomy, rainy Mother's Day.  Dusk had come early for it had kind of been dark all day long.  Bruce was behind me, staring out his sliding glass door.  At what, I had no idea for his are the only outside lights down the little walkway that skirts his house, and he didn't have them on.  He seemed rather intent for he didn't notice my occasional pauses from scrubbing, looking the question at him.  (Even Bruce whom I would t