That cookie wasn’t the only thing you ate.
Next was a piece of pizza with Naomi, the two of you having a sleep over.
For the first time in months, my sister came home giggling, telling me all about the movie you two watched, and how, in the middle of the night, you got up just to paint each other’s nails.
Naomi looked like a happy teenage girl.
Not a rag-tag middle-aged mom, caring for her mute, fucked-up brother.
