Similar to the way that eight is my sister's favourite number, five is mine.

She has major issues with that. My sister hates odd numbers. It's a kind of obsessive compulsion thing.

She also loves right angles.

Whilst my parents sleep on in the heat of the day, perfectly parallel, as my sister would like, I relive all of the excellent memories we've had together.

Most of them, unfortunately, are from today.

The End

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