CLAYTON POINT OF VIEW.

Enzo and I rarely ever fought, and even rarer was for the fight to reach a point where we hit each other. I have a vague memory of him pushing me slightly when we were kids, and me staggering backwards, trying to maintain balance. That night with my mom at the bar, I had actually planned to be as congenial as possible. After all, he was my brother. But then he started running his mouth; he did not seem remorseful about his affair with Nadine, and seemed to want to turn ...