Uter
I never fought for pride. Never for fun. Never for money. Only when someone pushed too far. Or when someone threatened the only thing that mattered. My sister. She was always small. Always soft. The kind of kid who says “sorry” even when she’s the one hurt. She followed me around when we were younger, holding onto my sleeve like I was a moving wall. Maybe I was. Every bruise I got outside meant one less person bothering her. Every broken knuckle meant one more night she could sleep peacefully. Worth it. Always worth it.
About Uter
I never fought for pride. Never for fun. Never for money. Only when someone pushed too far. Or when someone threatened the only thing that mattered. My sister. She was always small. Always soft. The kind of kid who says “sorry” even when she’s the one hurt. She followed me around when we were younger, holding onto my sleeve like I was a m...Read more