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So about the name.

November 2, 2011
The other day I walked down the hallway of my childhood home towards a bedroom. Before I could knock on the door the shoe closet to my right creaked open. From the dark a small foot poked out, then two. My youngest brother whispered from inside.

“Hey Cyra. Knock on the door for me, and then act confused.”

I peered into the closet and made out Liam, wrapped in a blanket, with a laptop, sitting rather uncomfortably on a pile of old work boots and heels.

“Why are you in the closet?” I whispered back.

“I don’t know. I’m just here. Knock on the door. I want to freak out Haydn.”

Haydn is another of my brothers, the next up in age. It was his bedroom door near which we were convening. Suddenly that door burst open, Liam scuttled back into the closet like a hermit crab, and Haydn glared into the dark space. Haydn stands six feet, two inches tall, and at least four feet wide. He has a handsome face but his frame nevertheless renders him an ogre.

“He’s been knocking on my door with his foot for twenty minutes.” he said.

“No I haven’t!” exclaimed the closet.

“I’m filming!”

“You’re a jerk is what you are!”

Both doors closed, and I stood there for a second thinking. I decided to go do something else.

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