Inquiringwriter
They fought mercilessly. The bills weren't paid. The grass was never mowed. The flowers weren't watered. They didn't know quite know how to function together, but the one thing they always did was love. Their hearts were full.
She was miraculous. It was my third day of recovery, and she was dressed in black leggings and a bright blue top. I was doe-eyed and quiet and awkward, but she made the idea of recovery less terrifying. I never really thought I'd fall for someone like that, but there she was, miraculous and heavenly, reminding me that there are unearthly beings among us.
My favorite hobby was to collect your smiles. It began in the winter when we sat across from one another on the bridge in Central Park, and I told you how much I loved you, despite your recent mistakes. I remember thinking that your smiles were worth the fight, and I planned on collected them for as long as you'd let me.
I had always imagined my sister getting married in a jungle surrounded my seventeen wild cats and thirty-seven hungry bears. Never did I imagine that it would happen on an airplane, in the midst of a hurricane, on the way to our dad's funeral. My aunt's wiped their bleeding mascara on their carry on bags, and my uncles grunted quietly in the back of the plane, clearly focused on the game they were broadcasting. I couldn't find my sister, but I could only imagine she was cramped in the bathroom behind our uncles, trying to curl her hair or re-position her fake eyelashes. Barely five minutes had passed before she emerged from the single bathroom in a frenzy. Her makeup was smeared across her face, as if a child had attempted to color in the lines of her sharp features. Her hair looked as if she had stuck her head out the window for a few minutes before emerging. A low-quality version of "Here Comes the Bride" began to fill the small plane.
She was dressed in nothing but sleeved garments and a tattered skirt that fell just short of her wrinkled knees. Her eyes looked as if they'd seen a war, and her shallow cheeks looked like they had something to say, but lacked the energy to do so. As I went to say hello, so turned around and ran away.
He slid through the door, undetected and unscathed. The receptionist at the desk was preoccupied with the chip in her nail polish to notice the shadow stealthily creeping behind her. He was so close; there was nothing to get in his way, except the guard dog.
She had always been my antithesis. On my wedding day, she wore black to offset my white. I played with dolls, and she ripped their heads off. I went to college, and she fell into performing in an unknown city in an unknown town. I called her and left a message, and she deleted it with a grin.
I always craved to have a sister beside my side; from the moment one of us was born, through the years and the tears. Instead, I've come to live in a home with seven brothers. Sometimes I wonder if God did that just to spit a joke in my face. A sisterhood seems like something no one should miss out on; this is not a very funny joke.
The room was dark, but I could still see the neon lights graze his teeth; his maniacal laughter filled the room, and I couldn't help but think that the high pitched echoes must have slipped underneath the doors; surely someone must have heard them. Hours passed, and neon blurs faded to cosmic colors on the wall. I fell asleep with images of glowing teeth on my eyelids.
The little girl sat beside the grave stone; oblique in nature and disposition, it seemed like quite a juxtaposition to see such youth beside the dead. Dead flowers lay in her hands, and I couldn't help but wonder how long she'd been sitting there; how long did it take for the flowers to die?
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