The sky that day had the same mopey gray as the walls of Annie’s shabby apartment. Annie stared out of the window from the desk in her living room, sipping slowly on a cup of coffee, a pen held in her free hand.
The hardest part was trying to decide what to write to her sister after five years with no contact. In truth, in hadn’t been Annie’s idea at all to send the letter. She’d been cleaning one several pictures in Sophia’s mansion of a home. Sophia was telling her some story about that day, the trouble her brother, Christopher, had gone through to hire to a photographer, only for his kids to throw tantrums the day the pictures were to be taken.
“What about your sister, dear? Have you written to her lately?” Sophia had asked when she finished her story.