Every night you watch them — your sister and her husband — from the doorway or the hall.
They let you move in because times were hard, and your luck even harder.
And though you appreciate their gesture and allowance, and wish you could be the supportive and loyal sister you ought to be.
You want him. Your sister’s husband.
Not for a single moment of passion he thereafter regrets.
No, you want him forever and for always. As your lover and your mate.
You swear to yourself, as they fuck and you gaze, that one day you will step inside.
That you will confront her and challenge her, and when she has given in, make it she who watches.
But for tonight, you shall remain there beyond the door. Waiting. Watching. And without sound whimper as you finger. Preparing yourself for the day you take the plunge, make the play, and when she refuses you, fight your sister.