Sisterly Love

"Hello?" I answered.

"There is some weird shit going on here," she whispered.

"Like thousands of dead birds and fish weird, or is it something else?"

"No, like the power is off and I do not know what is going on. And then I turned on my computer and on the main screen there is a naked picture of me," she said flatly.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. There are naked pictures of me," she repeated.

"On the Internet, or just on your computer?" I asked.

"Do you know who took this picture?" she asked me, as if genuinely looking for an answer.

"Ugh, no," I replied. "You are in India. I am in Canada. I do not know who is taking naked photos of you."

"I am not naked in the picture," she sighed.

"You are the one who told me there is a naked photo of you on your computer screen."

"There is!" she exclaimed, "it's me! With my tits out! Where did it come from?!"

"I have no idea where it came from. And there is no way that you are not drunk right now. Are you awake in the photo? Do you appear to be aware in the photo that it is being taken?" I asked, but, alas, my questions were met with a series of indiscernible mumblings and silence.

A few minutes later, I think she said something about crawling under the bed to either hide or die, but I could not tell you for certain.

I am pretty sure this is her way of letting me know that she misses me and is excited about my upcoming visit in March.