Page 314 of Bitter’s Sweet

“Making sure.”

“Bitter.”

“What?”

Her smile is tired and warm.

Mine if I am lucky enough to keep deserving pieces of it.

“Come upstairs.”

So I do.

I let her go first.

Inside, Sweet crosses to the crate beside my bed and sets Mama’s picture down herself.

Her thumb follows the repaired corner.

“You left the crack.”

“I could've hidden it more.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Why?”

She looks at me.

“Because it happened.”

The words settle deep.

Sweet puts the frame down and turns to face me.

“I need rules.”

“I figured.”

“I am not promising perfect.”

“I don't trust perfect.”

“I might get scared.”

“You tell me.”

“You might get scared.”

“I tell you.”

“No shutting down and deciding what I think without asking.”

“Yeah.”

“No coffins.”

I wince.