Inkwell and Paper



The coldness from the picture frame matched my heart. The image of my sister, Mariah, brought chills to my body.

We were arguing and disconnected from each other for more than six months. She crossed me in a way that made forgiveness impossible.

My mother called me last night. Before my phone rang, the outside world went silent for a second. That was my warning.

Mama said, “Your sissy is gone.”

I knew without asking.

She died without apologizing.

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