One day, 10 years ago, she was born. Looking at her crying in my sister-in-law's arms, I felt a sense of sanctity as an older sister. Because of the distance between where we live, we only see each other once in a long time, she called me sister in whiny Mandarin, and I treated her like a little doll. I gave her funny pigtails, dressed her up as a fairy with an adult scarf, and told her to ask adults for snacks and toys, and she always said loyally, "Sister, here you go." I snickered on the side, so being a sister was so magical.
Then we lived closer and she grew up. No longer directed by me to run around like an ant on a hot pan, she learned to snitch. So I bribed her with snacks and terrorized her with bugs, and eventually she had to admit defeat to me and then follow me around fighting puppies and catching kittens and doing all the bad things.
Until I went to middle school, I had to live in school and only came back once every half month. Before going to school, she did not know where to turn out some printed cartoon characters of the curriculum, mysteriously said to me: "I put in your schoolbag a, but you have to go to school and then see." Looking at her sly eyes, I nodded. I really don't know what kind of drugs this stinky girl is selling. When I came to an unfamiliar school with a childish heart, I realized that I didn't fit in with it. Just as I was licking the wounds of my heart in the corner of no one's attention, I inadvertently dropped a card from the compartment of my school bag, which was the curriculum given to me by my sister. I picked it up, it was beautifully printed on the front, and on the back it was plain white with a few words written crookedly on it: sister, I miss you. I smiled happily, and it became my only warmth in this strange campus.
Sister, you are my little apple.