We’re in a fancy hotel room for the night, living it up in the big city, having a blast like we always do when we’re together. And this time, without our mom around, we’re having even MORE fun. We can’t help it. It’s natural. We’re best friends. We’ve always been. It’s late, we’ve dined, wined, we’re so tired… and maybe still a bit drunk. We laugh about having to share a bed, but we don’t care. It’s no big deal. We’re brother and sister, we’re family, we can handle it. And then, as it gets even later, we start talking… about random stuff at first, even about losing our dad, how you and I became even closer after the accident… probably because we’ve been imbibing all night long. Too much. Or maybe, just the right amount. … There’s no way that either one of us will ever be able to tell just when it happened… which confession was too much, or enough… when the playful, sibling teasing became more. But it happened. Because we found out we’ve both wanted it.
