Hearing My Sister's Thoughts​​

Summary

The tense silence in the conference room was thick. My department was in the middle of a final pitch when a voice, clear as a bell, echoed in everyone’s mind: My sister’s face is so flushed. She must be playing with that little toy again. I can’t say a word, or the client will tear up our contract.

The client’s representatives exchanged uneasy glances. The deal was dead. My manager, purple with rage, canceled our entire department’s bonuses. I became the object of everyone’s scorn.