Ever since I can remember, there were two of us: my sister and me. We almost never spent a day apart.
Got along pretty well most of the time, especially when we were little. But as you get older, you sometimes get a little more crotchety, a little more set in your ways. Sis was no exception.
Some might say she was a tad controlling, and maybe she was. Telling me when to eat, where I could sit. “Grey Hitler,” I’d call her, but never to her face.
She’s gone now. There’s just me, alone. I miss my sister Matata.
[The 100 Word Stories Podcast celebrates its third anniversary tomorrow with Weekly Challenge #111, the theme of which is One.]
Got along pretty well most of the time, especially when we were little. But as you get older, you sometimes get a little more crotchety, a little more set in your ways. Sis was no exception.
Some might say she was a tad controlling, and maybe she was. Telling me when to eat, where I could sit. “Grey Hitler,” I’d call her, but never to her face.
She’s gone now. There’s just me, alone. I miss my sister Matata.
[The 100 Word Stories Podcast celebrates its third anniversary tomorrow with Weekly Challenge #111, the theme of which is One.]
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