The coffee filters were on the top shelf, but Kayla kept asking Andrew to reach them whenever she crossed our kitchen in a towel. She called it a test, even after I told her to stop. On Sunday, Andrew set down his coffee, unlocked his phone, and showed her why he’d stopped leaving the room that day.

Andrew pushed the lower rack in.

“Why?”

“She’s your sister.”

At the time, that sounded reasonable.

Three days later, I understood why it wasn’t.

***

Sunday morning, I was buttering toast when I heard Kayla coming downstairs.

Andrew sat at the table with his coffee.

She appeared in the doorway.

Same towel.

Same bare feet.

Same complete refusal to care that I’d asked her to stop.

I put down the knife.

Andrew touched my wrist.

“Hang on.”

I looked at him.

He stood and carried his mug to the counter.

“Let me answer this one.”

Kayla smiled.

“Finally!”

Andrew leaned against the counter.

“You’ve been calling this a test all week, right?”