Clare was, in a dim fashion, aware it was a dream.


    She stood on the sunbaked streets outside her childhood home. Everything was bright and hot, and she wandered towards the sea feverishly.


    Emma was waiting on the dock. She cut a strange silhouette against the water-bounced light, scrawny, with dark, overflowing hair. Her posture was too old for her age of twelve. The last age Clare had seen her at.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    “Hey.” It felt odd to speak aloud. Clare crouched beside her diminutive sister, marveling at the warm voice-buzz in her throat.


    Emma looked up at her, eyes the same blue of her beloved ocean. “You’re too tall. You were younger than me.”


    Clare shrugged unapologetically. “Sounds like a you problem.”


    Her sister turned back to the waves, snorting.


    They watched the water, the sky bleeding into it willy-nilly. Birds hopped rhythmically, their chirrs mixing with the ocean-thrum.


    “I miss it.” Emma said, gesturing to the scene.


    Clare closed her eyes, focusing on the salt-sharp sea air. “And I miss you.”