Last night, as I was rushing down to the gym for some iron-pumping, I found myself squeezing through hordes of homebound office-goers. I kept muttering “excuse me” as I pushed past them as politely as I could and all of a sudden, I remembered how the voice of my sista sounded like before she lost it in the name of work.
That moment was fleeting and slightly bizarre, as her voice floated in my memories. And as quickly as it had arrived, the memory was gone.
Before her voice turned into its current state of hoarseness now, we used to sound the same. People couldn’t tell us apart over the phone, not even our significant others. In a way, I missed her voice. And it made me miss her presence too, because despite all the fights we used to have, it’s not as fun being a “single child” at home. Plus, we weren’t really the sort that hang out together often so the only times we get to meet is in the gym or when she visits.
I miss my sista.