Lost Sister

by Michael J. Solender

She takes on form and shape and comes into focus. She looks exactly like my sister, though I do not have a sister. Combing through my unwashed hair, the slenderness of her fingers on my scalp, we are transported to the Alhambra where we lose ourselves in the Generalife amidst the fountains and Tiger flies, the morning flashes of sun showing through her skirt.

She is my sister.

We eat sweet lemon and bitter orange and don't speak a word, silence strengthening our filial bond.

I don't have a sister.