"Abang"
"Hello? who is this?"
"Its me... your sister"

The words to call him sounding foreign on my toungue. An unpleasant combination of something reminding you of a sour past and an unwritten future.

Its been a long long long time since we've had a conversation. A longer time still since we cared about each other.

He is merely my blood. Nothing more, nothing less. He used to be my protector. The boy-man on a bike too big carrying me on its handlebars to the grocery store.

He used to be my playmate as we stayed up late late late at night playing board games that made no sense.

He used to teach me compassion. The right way to hold a cat. The right way to stroke it and feed it.

Used to, used to, used to.

So many used to. So few is-es

I had to call him today. A long time coming. To finally ask him for his duties as a son. To care for my mother while I am not around. And us, poor us, strangers in different states. It might as well be different worlds. Connected by the thin lines of blood that bring nothing more between us.

Are we truly siblings if there is nothing left between us? If we cease to care about each other.

I wonder when the day would come, when calling for him does not sound so foreign. When naming myself to him does not sound so awkward.

"Its your sister"

Sometimes I wonder if its true