leather (2)

<leather>

 Picking at the leather of the passenger seat, my eyes avoided the driver of this car. The windows emit the cold from the outside, and the condensation creates a hazy image of the world outside. The world outside is a road, solitude in nature. It snakes through hills and valleys of the former American frontier, a land untainted by the noisiness of the east and the attitude of the west. I pick but I do not tear. 

 The man driving reminds me of the image of my brother, or how I would imagine he would look like. His youthful eyes glare from a matured and grizzled face. I never my brother, I am sure we would have gotten along. My mother always said so, and I believed her. He joined the navy while I was still in the womb. The ship he was in sunk in the Pacific before he could even return for Christmas during his first year. The day the men came to our doorstep to deliver the news was the day I was born; my mother had became so distraught that I had to get out of there. They ended up naming me after the month I was born and he died: August. 

 The man driving slows down and pulls into a diner along the highway. 

 "This is as far as I can take you. My home is just down the way."

 "Thanks, I appreciate the ride."

 I take my bag from the backseat and exit the car. He backs out the parking lot, and that was the last time I saw him. Was he my brother?