Immense envy for youth surged through me. The leniency that came with being a juvenile meant Joyce could speak without reservation and lash out at people as she pleased.
My gaze settled on the glass of water on the table. I stood up and approached her. There was no anger in my voice, but a cold indifference seeped through my words. “Indeed, I'm thirty now. That's four to five years older than you. I wonder what I was up to when I was your age.”
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