we would whisper, you and me and the dark. simple things, "I'm here." "it's dark." "I love you." I mostly nodded and touched my fingertips to yours, because my voice was too loud and we would get caught and I liked the way your hand was always warm.
"go to sleep," you'd say, in your big sister voice. and I would, because you were older and wiser and you always knew what was best for me. sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night, panicky because I couldn't find your hand. you would turn over and shush me into calm, wrap me in your arms until I could sleep again.
I don't know why I didn't realize that you never seemed to sleep. I guess I thought big sisters didn't need to. what I do remember is the night that you were so exhausted that your eyes closed before mine, and I heard what your big sister voice had been protecting me from.
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