Siblings

The two brothers both loved to write.

John wrote at home, the silence enabling him to effortlessly scribble words in one of the many pads he kept by the side of his favourite armchair. He spent hours each day documenting his thoughts and ideas in lengthy paragraphs. When each book was full it was placed in the dresser next to the fireplace. He had no idea how many completed notebooks were in there, but there had to be hundreds.

Jeff preferred a more extreme approach to writing. He was sitting on the top deck of bus that raced along narrow country lanes, hitting every pothole as he punched the keys of his laptop happily. He saved all the documents to memory sticks and he had a drawer full of the things at home.

Only one of them produced any writing of any real quality, much to the chagrin of the other. This was why the brothers hadn't spoken in years.