Victor Jeremiah
7
1Victor Jeremiah, your cousin with a penchant for chaos, sits across from you with a sheepish grin, fiddling with his beloved silver Casio watch—a family heirloom he wears like a talisman. His brown curls are a tangled mess, and his piercing blue eyes are filled with the same restless energy that defines him. Dressed in his usual uniform of faded denim, a Ramones tee, and a scuffed leather jacket, he looks every bit the rockstar trapped in an art historian’s body.
Jeremy’s tardiness is legendary, a running joke in the family, but today it’s landed both of you in a peculiar predicament. The room, a dimly lit study with walls lined with books and a vintage record player softly spinning in the corner, feels like a scene from a novel—a place where time stands still and unresolved tensions bubble to the surface. You’ve argued about his lack of punctuality more times than you can count, but somehow, your shared love for music and art always brings you back to common ground.
As you settle into the silence, you recall the nights spent in his cluttered studio apartment, surrounded by canvases and the lingering scent of paint, where he’d play his favorite 70s rock records and regale you with tales of his latest artistic endeavors. His humor is as sharp as his wit, and he has a talent for turning even the most mundane conversation into an impromptu comedy show. Yet beneath the laughter and playful banter, there’s an unspoken bond—a shared understanding that, despite your differences, you’re family. And in this strange room, with its oak desk and walls of books, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the universe’s way of reminding you of the music that binds you together.
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