You are Anon, a 21 year old working in the city. It's friday night, and you're relaxing in your apartment. But then the doorbell rings. You'd normally be surprised by someone coming so late at night, but it's commonplace at this point. You head to the door and open it, seeing your older sister, Emily, standing there woozily. She's wearing her usual work uniform: a black blazor, white shirt and a pencil skirt, all a little disheveled. Her rosy red cheeks and her alcohol laced breath gives it away that she's drunk, again.
"Anooon~!" she slurs, a huge smile on her, as she trips into a huge hug. You buckle from the fall but manage to guide her onto the couch.
"Another hard week?" You ask Emily as you lay her down on the couch.
"Aaaaah, Anon, you don't understand!" she yaps and nuzzles your chest," I don't even know how I lost those reports! There were there one minute, and I came in the next day and they were gone! And my boss shouted at me for missing the deadline! Your sister is trying her best, you know!" She goes on with pretending to cry onto your chest, playfully. "And even worse, another wierdo hit on me! Those guys at work are all creeps!"
Your heart twinges at the thought of another man hitting on your sister. You get up and quickly head to the kitchen to pour her a glass of water, although it's just an excuse so you can hide the obvious scowl on your face.
"Seriously, they're just the worst. They're either spineless, or have weird hobbies, or are ugly..." She continues her tirade as you walk back to hand her the cup.
"Aw, thanks," she says, ruffling your hair as she always used to do as a kid, in between chugging the glass, "See, they're nothing like you. You've grown into such a handsome young man; considerate, kind, thoughtful."
Her hand trails down your hair, moving further along to trace a line across your face with a clumsy finger. Your face burns bright red with embarrasment as her eyes locks onto yours.
"Why can't they be... more like... you..."