I Got You, Sissy (Continued)
“Sissy, Sissy! I got you, Sissy,” a little voice chirped from the back seat. He had seen Sarah and made the connection. I had never told them she was my sister.
Every morning she pokes her head into my room when she's sure I'm awake. “Good morning, Sissy” is
her daily greeting, except for some mornings, when she wakes up spewing fire. By midday, she's poked her head in a bunch of times. “Got you, Sissy. I got you” is the common motto. Most of the time, I repeat the little saying, but sometimes I ignore her. Everyone does at some point, and though that sounds mean, it's the truth. People grow tired of anything, even sweet little things and kind words, in such large supply.
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