He's got cancer but you've got needs.
"Jeff," you type into Facebook chat. "I know I unfriended you a while back so thanks for reaccepting my friend request. I'm in town and could come to you."
Jeff says his ex-wife just let him move back in and he'd better not screw this up since he doesn't have rent money for a place of his own but sorry about your brother.
"Murray," you message on Google Plus, the only social network he seems to be on which means he must be in a cult. "I don't care who your God is, Murray. I still taste you from homecoming and I'd like another bite."
Murray says he's got a workshop this weekend that you should attend so you block him and change your passwords.
Your brother wakes up for a second, lets out a morphine scream that fades to a whimper about your mom. You hit Tinder and match with your prom date's little brother.
"He'd hate it if we hooked up," you tell him.
He says your prom date can't hate anything anymore since he committed suicide his senior year of college.
"In his memory then?" you plead. Radio silence.
You throw your phone and lay your head on a free stretch of your brother's hospital bed. Your dad comes in to relieve you.
"I'm sure you have someplace to go," he says.
You look at your brother, his shoulder blades so pronounced you can spot the fracture he took in JV lacrosse.
"I don't have anywhere to go," you say.
You put your head back on the mattress and listen while your Dad reads from Stephen King's "The Tommyknockers," a book your dad remembers your brother saying he enjoyed. They had a copy on the hospital lending shelf.
Happy Maybe You Should Look Up Some Old High School Friends To Fuck While Visiting Your Dying Brother Day!