One weekend, when my parents were away to visit relatives in Portland, Maine, I was alone at home, preparing for my upcoming chemistry exam, when I heard loud knocks on the door. I looked through the peephole and saw my brother's face. I opened the door, and he barged in. His hair was disheveled, and he was unshaven. His red face and erratic behavior suggested he was drunk. I helped him to the living room, and sat him on the sofa.

I said, "Boris, do you want black coffee? You look terrible."

He mumbled, "I feel terrible. I can't take it anymore."

"What happened?"

"Lily is not getting better, and...