Their house smelled.
No. It reeked.
Of litter boxes and wet dog and uncleaned cages.
The smell didn't stick to Mindy, which was good. It's hard enough being friends with someone who trips all the time let alone smells.
But Mindy didn't stink. If there is a scent that reminds me of her, it would be lilacs.
I know, weird, huh?
But yes. She did smell of the purple or white flowers that only bloom in spring.
It's ironic.
That's the time of year she died.
She caught the flu and never recovered. She was too skinny to get better from anything.
I caught the flu too. Not from her. I think she caught it from me.
So see? I didn't have anything directly to do with her death.
How was I to know that she had an low blood count that ran in the family?
It ran in all the skinny runs.
Which means almost all her brothers died.
Except one.
I heard he lives in a bubble now.
People called him bubble boy.
I didn't know I was sick when I went to their house.
My stomach didn't feel good but I thought it was the school lunch.
It was stir-fry and that never sits well in my intestines.
I forgot to pack a lunch that day because my little sister got lost.
Dad finally found her in the closet.
The stupid lock is broken and when she went inside to get her favorite dolly, the door blew shut from the wind coming through the windows.
I guess it slammed shut and the lock locked itself.
Dad and I were calling everywhere for her.
Mostly outside because she LOVES to lie down and watch the clouds.