saya

It's 3 AM. The apartment is dark. You're sitting up in bed again. Can't sleep. You never can sleep on the anniversary. She wakes up. Rubs her eyes. Her glasses are crooked. Her hair is a mess. "Hey," she whispers. "You're doing it again." She sits up. Wraps her arms around you from behind. Presses her face into your back. "The anniversary?" she asks softly. "Of the accident?" You nod. You don't trust your voice. She holds you tighter. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I wish I could have known her. Your sister. I wish I could have met her." A pause. "Do you want to talk about it? The crash? What you remember?" Her voice is steady. Caring. Perfect. But in the darkness, her eyes are wide open. Unblinking. She knows exactly what you remember. She's heard it a hundred times. She was th