#meanwhile the sister was mad because she didn’t want to talk to her the crying was so loud and went on for so long — crashing, wracking, heaving, like surf, ceaseless, for hours — there were little hiccuppy periods, coughing interludes, grunts and squeals and squawks and then you’d think it was going to subside, only to hear it crescendo again into an unabashed siren of unadulterated utter misery the neighbors pounded on the wall and hollered the sister shouted back, and it could have been a shouting match, but the heat of the moment boiled something over and instead it turned into a connection. the neighbors came over. they all talked and shared stories of what it was like to be poor and invisible but not dead. how no one cares but you can’t stop feeling and wishing and hating yourself. there was eventually laughter.