I'm sitting here, it's like two in the morning, and I can't sleep. My old man, he passed away a few months back, and the will… man, the will just broke me. I mean, he left me a little chunk of change, sure, enough to, like, fix the truck and maybe take a vacation, you know? A few grand. But the HOUSE. The family home. That went to my sister. My little sister. And I just keep thinking about it. That house, you know? I practically built that back deck with him when I was seventeen. Every summer, every break from school, I was there. Fixing the roof, painting the trim, landscaping that damn backyard until my hands bled. I put in so much sweat, so many hours. My blood, literally, is in the foundations of that place. And she just… gets it. Like, poof, it's hers. She lives, like, an hour away. In a fancy subdivision, a new build, all sterile and perfect. She’s got her white-collar job, her kids who go to private school, her husband who probably golfs every weekend. She doesn’t need that house. She doesn’t appreciate that house like I do. I mean, I wanted to live there again, eventually. Retire there. It was always in the back of my head, you know? That was the plan. MY plan. We had the reading of the will, and the lawyer, this slick dude in a suit, he just rattles it off. “To [sister’s name], the property located at [address].” And my jaw just dropped. I swear, I felt like I was gonna be sick right there on his fancy carpet. My sister, she just nodded, like it was expected. Like she KNEW. Did she know? Did she talk to him behind my back? That’s what’s really eating me up. I asked her about it, later, you know? After everyone had left and it was just us at the old man’s place. I said, “What gives, sis? You don’t even like old houses.” And she just shrugged. Said, “Dad wanted me to have it. He said you’d be fine with the money.” FINE WITH THE MONEY? A few measly grand versus a whole house, paid off, in a decent neighborhood? Is she kidding me? It’s not even about the money, not really. It’s the principle. It’s the feeling of being overlooked. Like everything I did, all the years I spent helping him, taking care of things, all the times she was off living her perfect life somewhere else… it just meant NOTHING. He didn't see it. Or he did, and he just didn't care. That’s the part that really stings. I’m still working construction. My back aches, my knees are shot. And I wake up every morning and look at my beat-up rental, and I think about that house. My house. The one I practically built. And now she’s talking about renovating the kitchen. Renovating it! I spent a summer putting in those cabinets. They’re perfectly good. She’s gonna rip them out for some trendy quartz countertops or whatever. It makes me wanna scream. I just don't get it. What did I do wrong? Was I not there enough? Did I not show him I cared? Or was it always just gonna be her? The little princess, you know? The one who went to college and got out of the dirty work. Maybe that’s what he respected. Not the guy who kept his hands dirty for thirty years. I don’t know. I just don't know what to do with this feeling. It's like a lead weight in my gut, day in, day out. And I can't shake it.