If she was going to get dragged into a nightmare, then I was going to have to react as fast as possible to keep her from burning down the house and killing everyone inside. I didn’t get anymore sleep than she did, so when she woke up and decided to make breakfast, I agreed to help her. She tried to frown, but it twisted into a smile. “Maybe you should just sit back and watch,” she said as we walked out of the basement into the kitchen. “What? I can kind of cook.” “Burning macaroni and cheese isn’t cooking,” Dro pointed out. “It’s not my fault that I get the faulty boxes and shitty stoves,” I grumped. Dro laughed and started getting ready to make breakfast. She’d always known her way around a kitchen, and cooking was one of her favorite things. She used to do it all the time with Mom. An old sadness tugged at my heart as I remembered eating cookie dough and getting into flour throwing fights until Dro and I looked like ghostly twins. I made a cup of coffee and glanced at my sister.
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