The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the yard, the gathering winding down.
Conversations fade, replaced by the soft murmur of the evening.
My sister and I find ourselves alone for a moment, the silence between us heavy.
“About the gift,” I start, my voice tentative.
She looks at me, her expression unreadable.
“It’s not just about that,” she says, her tone softened.
Her words hang between us, a bridge over the gulf we’ve created.
I nod, acknowledging the truth in her words.
It’s not just about a forgotten gift, but about the distance we’ve allowed to grow.
The moment passes, but the tension remains, a reminder of the work still to be done.
The gathering ends, people dispersing, leaving behind echoes of laughter and conversation.
We part with promises to talk more, to try and mend what’s been broken.
The drive home is quiet, the road stretching out, a path toward something new.
Tomorrow brings another day, another chance to make things right.
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