My sister couldn’t speak, so I did all her talking for her. You’d think she’d be grateful, but she grew sullen. She couldn’t spin, so I did all of our work. She spat on the floor when I walked by. I did the washing, the baking, the gardening. She glared at me and locked the door whenever I went out.
One day I didn’t come home. I heard that my sister was calling for me, but I didn’t answer. I heard that her hands were bleeding from all the work she was now forced to do, but I stayed where I was. I heard she was tearing out her hair from the grief of missing me. That was the part when I was supposed to return. Instead I set out to sea. I didn’t think of her once.