My sister smashed my glasses the morning of my thesis defense. ‘I guess you’ll have to fail,’ she laughed. Mom handed me a roll of tape. ‘Fix them yourself.’ Dad said: ‘They’ve already started without you.’ I didn’t argue. Ten minutes later, my thesis advisor was pounding on our front door and he wasn’t alone.
My sister broke my glasses at 8:07 on the morning I was supposed to defend five years of research. Then she smiled at the pieces in the kitchen sink and said, “I guess you’ll have to fail.” Family
For a second, nobody moved.
My mother was spreading jam on toast. My father was scrolling through his phone. My sister, Lila, leaned against the counter in her silk robe, looking pleased with herself. Family
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I stared at the snapped frame in my hands. Without my glasses, anything beyond three feet dissolved into color and light.
