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her kitchen, I find a sandwich on the counter already waiting. When I see the crusts cut off, I know it’s mom’s doing. As a kid, I refused to eat ‘the burnt pieces,’ I grew out of it years ago, but she still continues to do it. Moms never forget.

Heading back to the couch, sandwich in hand, I unzip my bag and grab the one pair of pajama pants I own. Finishing up my sandwich, I find the first-floor bathroom and take a quick shower before slipping on the pants.

As I put my makeshift bed in order, a piece of paper drifts to the floor.

I snort as I place the note on the coffee table. I have no doubt she would. Definitely finding the nearest Walmart tomorrow and buying some lounge shorts to last me a month.

"What the fuck are these?" My anger feels too large to fit in the doorway of my sister’s office.

"I don't know, what are they?" Mia doesn't bother looking away from the screen. Her blasé tone makes my skin feel tight.

I shove the letters in front of her face, blocking her view. Seconds later, she's yanking them from me and swivels in her chair. "I told you to stay out of my shit."

"How was I to know you would stash them with the superglue?" I stand straighter and cross my arms over my chest.

"What did you need that for anyway?"

"Your cup...we broke."

She snorts, "You mean you."

Rolling my eyes, I point to the letters to focus that I wasn’t the one on trial here. "Why didn't you tell me Ger is sending letters to mom?" The knowledge scorches my tongue as I say the words.

"Keep it down," she hisses, and her eyes flit to the door. So mom doesn't know, good!

"Why, Mia, am I only finding out now?"

She waves her hand, dismissing my words. "Didn't think you'd care."

"I'm calling bullshit on that one," I snap.

We stare off, but I'm not giving in. She should have told me. "Fine," she spits. "I knew you'd insist on reading them. If you had, you would have tried to put her in a maximum-security psychiatric facility. When they started coming in, she was starting to do better. I didn't want anything to happen to that progress."

"What I don't understand is why you knew, and I didn't."

"May I remind you, I was also a guardian. I had plenty of say in if she would see them, and I decided she shouldn't. As far as the facility's concerned, you didn't need to be told."

"I still call it bullshit that I'm only finding out now. Does he still write?"

She shakes her head. "It's been a few years since she got one."

"Good. Did you read any?"

Her face grows pale. "I wish I hadn't. I only got halfway before I knew I made the right decision."

"None have come here?"

She shakes her head, and I nod. That, unfortunately, doesn't mean he doesn't know about this place.

"Why didn't you get rid of them then?"

"It felt wrong." Her brows pinch. "They aren't mine to dispose of."

"They were the moment you made the decision to keep them secret. Get rid of them before she goes looking for glue."

"Fine," she snaps again.

"Your cup's fixed and in the kitchen."

She chews on her bottom lip, and I swear I hear a thank you before my first foot leads me downstairs.

It’s been two weeks since I’ve shown up at my sister’s.

We’ve created a routine. My mom wakes up at six am, never getting out of the schedule the hospital had her on, and makes my sister and me breakfast. I make the coffee, and my sister comes downstairs from waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

She’s still hostile but lessens every day. I think she is starting to realize that I’m following through.

Brian called yesterday. He will start driving with the moving truck in the next few days. He's already grabbed my car from the airport. I will owe him taking time off to bring me my stuff.

In a few days, I start my new job as a night stocker. I’m reluctant to accept that I won’t be able to check all the doors and windows or the streets for any suspicious cars before heading to bed. So far, nothing stood out, but every day and night, I watch to make sure.

I have registered for some online classes to get the credits I need to finish school. It’s been six years, but it turns out I need another twelve to get my degree.

Soon, I can be a mechanical engineer, and the company that hired me has the most advanced packaging system on this side of the states. If I finish my degree and continue with the company, I’m guaranteed a position since I’ll have first-hand knowledge of machines I’ll be maintaining. I couldn’t have asked for a better lineup.

The only thing left is finding a place to live. I’m reluctant about leaving my sister’s house. But, the fact of the matter is, it might be better for everyone if I do. Her long-time boyfriend showed up at the house the other night and got the wrong idea about me. Granted, I was in only a towel and gave him no indication that I wasn’t who he thought I was. We nearly had a fight in the entryway before Mia showed up to break the stare-off.

This morning, I went to the kitchen to make coffee. Mom’s at the table giving me ‘the look’. Oh shit. Giving her my back, I start to make coffee, thinking of what I could have done. Whatever this is about, coffee will need to be involved. Turning around, I lean against the counter.

“What did I do?”

Her mouth twists like she’s sucking on a lemon. “It’s not what you did...I did something I shouldn’t have.”

That takes me aback. “What did you do?”

“Went through your things. I --”

“Why would you do that?” I bite out. I’m twenty-six years old. I can take

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