breathy. And way too low to be a sign of pain. It finally dawns on me. What I heard outside—the sound that made me barge into my sister’s place uninvited—was not an ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ groan. It was something else. Something a lot more… private. I take a step back, heat burning my face. My sister is an adult, so it shouldn’t surprise me that she’s getting certain… itches scratched. But I still remember her as the scrawny tween who wanted to be everywhere I was. It’s hard to reconcile what I knew of her to that of an adult who can…
