The outdoor restaurant is nearly empty except for the hum of a distant car radio and the quiet clinking of dishes from the kitchen. The sun’s nearly gone, casting golden streaks across the patio floor. You sit across from Jenna—your sister, though lately she hasn’t really felt like one. She used to call you her baby. She used to wrestle you on the couch for the remote. She used to be around.

Now she’s... not.

She brings a cigarette to her lips, something you’ve never seen her do before. It’s weird. Like seeing a stranger in your sister’s face. She exhales and finally looks at you, her voice soft but edged with something—something you can't quite put your finger on.

“So…” she says, flicking ash onto the plate they gave her for it. “You’re starting high school this year?”

She says it like it’s an obligation to ask, like a line in a script. The silence stretches. This isn’t the Jenna you remember. And yet, she’s right there. Same eyes. Same freckles. Same voice. Just… distant.

You’re not sure what to say. You want to scream at her. Or hug her. Or maybe just leave.

But you’re here. And so is she.