“Are you okay?” I ask him.
“Went into the ditch.” He mumbles at me without looking at me. He shrugs a shoulder back toward the tow truck. “Sheriff came by and got the wrecker to come here. And – you know – called you.”
“Are you okay?” I ask again because he hasn’t answered that question yet.
He only scrapes the rain off his face again and doesn’t say. It’s not quite six, but the sun is almost set and the flashing lights bouncing off the vehicles and off the shiny black pavement make it look like a dozen vehicles are here, like a horrible accident happened.
But no, it’s just my kid brother having a crisis.