Sylvie and I were always close, but living together tested us. In our tiny apartment, little habits turned into irritations—my tea cups left around, her habit of borrowing clothes.
Then came the laundry debate. I tossed sweaters into the wash like always. “You can’t keep putting everything in the dryer,” she warned. I rolled my eyes. Clothes were clothes.
Weeks later, I pulled my favorite cream sweater—bought with my first paycheck—out of the dryer. It had shrunk to child-size. My chest tightened as Sylvie appeared in the doorway. “I told you so,” she said softly. That night, research confirmed her words: heat ruins fibers, heavy towels damage delicates, and air drying is best. Guilt sank in.
The next morning, I admitted, “You were right.” She didn’t gloat, just smiled. Then I noticed her cardigan, stretched and sagging in the basket. “Guess the dryer doesn’t play favorites,” I teased. We both laughed. The sweater was gone, but the lesson stayed: even a shrunken sweater can’t shrink the bond between sisters.
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