Sera
"That's not fair."
"What's not fair is getting your shoulder fucked up by the person who's supposed to be your sister." She said it to the mirror, flat and even. "That wasn't so fair either."
"I know."
"Do you."
"I came here to say I'm sorry."
"Great. You said it."
"Mina, come on."
"No, I heard you. Sorry. Noted." She picked up the comb again. "Anything else?"
The air between us went thin and hot. I could hear the fire and my own breathing and the small scraping sound of the comb through hair that didn't need combing.
"What do you want me to do," I said. "Get on my knees? Crawl? What is it going to take for you to actually look at me?"
"I'm not stopping you."
"I do mean it."
"You mean it how you meant it last time. When you said sorry and then spent ten minutes telling me why you were right."
"I'm not doing that."
"You're already doing it. You walked in here with a compress and a speech and you're waiting for me to accept it so you can feel better. That's what you do. You manage people. Even when you're apologizing you're managing."
"I'm not managing you."
"Then stop performing."


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