My sister kept breaking into my apartment like she owned it, and the worst part wasn’t what she touched—it was how she laughed when I asked her to stop.

My sister kept breaking into my apartment like she owned it, and the worst part wasn’t what she touched—it was how she laughed when I asked her to stop.

The trip itself was uneventful. Meetings blurred together. People talked about efficiency and margins, about problems that could be solved with spreadsheets and patience. At night, I lay in my hotel bed scrolling through my phone, half watching the news, half staring at the ceiling.

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