My little brother smashes into me from behind. I spin around, a retort ready to slip off my tongue. He grins up at me, smiling so hard his eyes are squeezed shut. His braces, which he recently had put on, reflect the nearby lamp. His blond hair is, as usual, sticking up in places, despite the careful effort of my mother get it to lay flat. His sweatshirt is zipped up to his neck, and it definitely does not match his black pants. His socks have holes ripped through the toes, but he still refuses to throw them away. He creates such a ridiculous picture that my retort is instantly lost.
"What?" I ask simply, reaching to continue typing.
"Hi," he shrieks before bounding away. I shake my head and position my fingers back on the keyboard, wondering how long it will be before he does the same thing again. Sure enough, two minutes later, I feel something barrel into me, nearly knocking me off my chair. He blinks innocently up at me, and once again, I lose my retort.
This is such a great description of Mark! I can just imagine him barreling into you like that, probably because I've seen it happen before! I like how you described his hair sticking up and his sweatshirt not matching and his ripped socks, it gives such a funny and accurate impression of the crazy (in a good way!) fourth grader he is! "Well why did I buy that grapefruit then???" hahaha :) Good job, you are such a great writer! :)
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