Tank
“How are you really doing?"
I fight not to roll my eyes at my older sister. She's my second mother, has been since the day I was born. I remember her dressing me up and showing me off to her friends when I was little. I'm glad there aren't any pictures because I looked like a horrible Cabbage Patch Doll reject if I recall correctly. It never bothered me, but sometimes her need to mother me is suffocating, especially as I got older and started living my own life. It's never cool to have two moms breathing down your neck, and that's exactly what I have some days.
“Save all your motherly concerns for my niece. She should be here very soon," I give her a slight grin, adjusting my leg on the couch in the den. I hope the grin softens the blow of my tone. I'm not in the mood for it today
