Okay, I just have to say that a fox is screeching really scarily as I write this intro and upsetting Louie the loaner dog.
Thank you Friday Fictioneers for keeping me out of trouble.
Nevertheless we carry on.
PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name
Sister
You are my sister.
My sister.
From my first memory to 21 I semi-trusted you. I respected you. I even thought, sometimes, I loved you although you were as disparate from me as a penguin and canary.
You tossed that in the toilet with the first man you met.
“Rachel? My little sister? No significance.”
Thanks.
I heard your words the other day repeated by your girlfriend, not your boyfriend.
It occurred before my book reading.
I shrugged, lit a cigarette, which I seldom do anymore.
Life is short.
A shot of bourbon.
Poetry reading.
My words rang true.
“I’m alone.”
end
Sascha Darlington 12/4/2017
Each shard of that brlliantly episodic piece cuts
Thank you, Neil. I feel humbled.
Dear Sascha,
Not the chummiest of sibling relationships, is it? Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
dysfunction. Many thanks, Rochelle! I really appreciate your reading!
Neil says it absolutely. That’s like sitting in the room with someone while they self-harm. Amazing writing.
Thank you so much.
It’s a shame when siblings don’t connect. Great writing, Sascha. —- Suzanne
Thank you, Suzanne.