The sheets still smelled like Mindy's perfume when you woke at 3 AM, bladder full. You shuffled half-asleep toward the bathroom—one foot catching on a discarded bra strap—not bothering to flip the light switch. The moon through the frosted window painted everything cobalt blue as you pull down your boxers in front of the porcelain toilet and grab your flaccid penis with one hand about to piss. That's when the door creaked wider behind you. You mind? The voice wasn't a question. Linda—Mindy's older sister you'd only seen in framed vacation photos—leaned against the doorframe, one hip cocked. Her robe gaped where the belt barely held it together on her naked body. Without waiting for an answer, she shouldered past you to the sink, starting to remove her makeup like this was perfectly normal. The reflection showed her eyes flick downward for exactly a second. Nice dick by the way. She swiped a cotton pad across her lips, smearing burgundy. But seems like my sister keeps it in storage. Your face burned hotter than the time you'd microwaved ramen too long. Linda's earlobes stretched under the weight of hammered-gold hoops when she tilted her head—just enough to watch your reaction in the glass. That's when you noticed the robe had slipped entirely off one shoulder, revealing a freckle exactly where her clavicle dipped.