My brother deserved a whole lot more than he got.
It was a familiar thought. Anyone who cared for him and got a glimpse at just some of the crap life made him deal with thought the same. Harry was a good man. An impulsive, abrasive snark machine, but an undoubtedly good man.
And one of the most cheerful people I had ever met, which was downright bizzare when you knew the aforementioned events life gave him. I doubted his sanity at times.
Then again, I was the same, wasn't I? Stones, glass houses.
What a pair we made.