Daniel
People tend to forget I'm in the room.
It's not an accident; it's a deliberate strategy. Growing up as the second oldest of four brothers meant existing squarely in the shadow of Danilo's overwhelming, storm-like presence, while Benecio sucked up all the oxygen in every room he walked into with his loud, unfiltered charm. And then there was four-year-old Bunky, who held the entire family hostage simply by existing.
I was twenty-five, dark, quiet, and perfectly content letting everyone else command the spotlight. I preferred the periphery. From the edges, you get to see what people are actually doing when they think nobody is paying attention.
Right now, standing near the sleek onyx bar of the rooftop lounge in Ipanema with a tumbler of cachaça melting in my hand, I was watching my younger brother lose his absolute mind.
Across the pulsing, neon-drenched dance floor, Benecio had his arm wrapped like an iron band around Dove's waist.
