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Mibba

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The Sharpest Lives

Intro

I remember the little things about Beverly; because when you're a child you never do see the whole picture. I remember how she had only two different pairs of pajamas and sometimes she had to wear mine. I remember how we used to fight over which tv show we were going to watch next, and how my mom would put on the timer for us to each have a turn with a toy we refused to share. I remember how I disliked walking to the bus stop with her because she'd run ahead of me and jump in any possible puddle before I could. I remember eating breakfast with her in the morning, and how when Beverly stayed at my house it seemed completely normal in my immature mind because she seemed to belong with me and my mom.

As I grew up, I'd sometimes think about Beverly. When I was young, my mind was preoccupied with her no matter what I did; and I think that's called missing someone. As I got older it was like my mind and heart finally had an agreement on the fact that she was gone, and slowly I stopped thinking about her all the time.

For most of my life, I'd lived in the left lower apartment of a peeling Victorian house. My mother owned the entire place, and accepted mostly unfortunate people as her tenants because we rented the other apartments for so cheap. This was how Beverly came and made two years of my life feel less alone, how she came to be a part of my family for me. How she came to fill the emptiness with her tony hands and loud laughter.

Between the time she and her mother packed up, we had at least four different tenants rent the apartment besides ours. It bothered me at first; that someone else was living in Beverly's apartment even though I had rarely been aloud to go to her place. Gradually I forgot that that apartment was hers, and became more worried that my mother's new tenants would have a loud dog or forget to pay their rent.

Sometimes I still think about Beverly, remember how she always kicked me in her sleep and how she ruined every puddle for me, remember how when her mother came to collect her daughter again she'd be rubbing the bottom of her nose between every word she spoke. But mostly, what I think about is how I felt happier when she was with us than I'd ever felt before. Sometimes I wonder how I can regain that feeling, or if I ever can. If I can ever shake the lonely feeling that settled in when she disappeared.

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