Sisters. Friends.
Sisters are complicated. You grow up unsure whether you love them or hate them. You get used to their presence at some point and accept them as one of life's inevitabilities, like pimples or traffic jams. If you have sisters like the ones I grew up with, you'd understand the annoyance of finding your favorite yellow dress among the dirty laundry instead of in your closet where you saw it yesterday or your white sneakers caked with mud after you scrubbed it to look like new a few days prior. And how about that piece of cake you were saving for dinner? You thought about eating it with the ice cream you bought last minute at the mall before taking the bus home. You open the refrigerator, smile at seeing the familiar red box and feel your mouth slightly water at the thought of sinking your teeth into the velvety dough and taste the richness of the chocolate filling... but wait... where is it? Gone. One of the girls you live with ate the last piece, your piece! War e...