My Sister's Keeper

e-hive with a tattoo on her neck—some kind of Chinese symbol. They wore jeans, t-shirts with the sleeves and midriff area ripped off, and metal

ndercover here. You'd better run alon

Just keep your hands where we can see them, Sweetie. And you, "

He—told us t

n't like it when

…ju

n here. If you don't want to be charged with interf

e hell scared out of us and agreed that in the future we needed to tak

hat she called her missionary work—a visit to some shut-in's to

lans had changed a

passed two abandoned doublewides parked in what appeared to be a

case. She'd stopped doing for most of the others, but not this one. The man that lived here was

ostly gone, just enough left to show where they'd been. His eyelids always looked tight and red, and he blinked all the time. He

h. I had nightmares about him that went on for more than a year

oats, and chickens. He smoked Borkum Riff tobacco in a pipe, an aroma I could st

wanted to hear all about what we'd been up to since he'd seen us last and acted like he truly cared. He was thoughtful, positive, inspiring, and w

telligent person I'd ever met. I don't think I ev

inston, too. She always cried w

it was obvious why she'd kept coming back all these year

r of dirty dishes, seized the last clean glass in the cab

with him. She was relaxed and charming. She smiled the whole time and laughed often. I had

gh. He must have been one hell of a man. I wish

unded by aging boat docks, weathered purple martin houses, and a dampness that still lingered from winter, it n

the sky into something dark and menacing. The breeze co

how I do love a good storm. Especially when I'm depressed. I love the feel of it, the sound of it, and all its special effects. Some storms come up so rapidly you barely have time to get out of their way. This was the kind

its grandeur, history, and ghosts, it's like walking into another dimensione—another universe completely separate from this one. It's a magical pl

the theatre is a loser. So I don't work in the theatre. I do it as a hobby—one I take very seriously. And that's what

s and putting them in a weather-beaten tool shed built decades ago by her late husband. No matter what she's doing or how she's standing, she always seems to have one e

r broke the sound barrier. I closed my eyes and rolled my head in a circle as the vibrations ru

g quickly turned to night and the flickering TV became the only light in the room. With a fresh scotch in hand, I stepped to the floor-length windows

en don't like. Something they're able to sense right away. Some flaw in my character. Maybe I drink too much. Maybe I

in. Hair hanging over my ears. Is that gray hair? I stepped closer and twisted my head side to side.

e the house with enough force to rattle the foundation and knock t

theatre

the TV stayed off. I slid my glass up next to the liquor bottle and was considering

k. As she struggled to keep an umbrella over her head, I realized I'd never heard the back d

es