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My middle sister is here at the house. She's been semi-estranged for two years, since she hooked up with a grifter who hated her family. My uncle consensually kidnapped her.
Part of why I bought a house that is too big was so my sisters would always be able to come home. Mom fills the space I made for them with junk, like a bee filling its hive with honey, but the intent remains.
I grew up in big, cluttered, tangled, sometimes in desperate need of repair, fannish houses. My idea of safety says "there is always an extra bed."
