Miriam was here. On my bed. Turns out, the brother-sister relationship wasn’t as bad as I remember—still not as interesting as the second half, bu... not bad. And then came the revelation with all those Polaroids: the lost love, the girl at church camp. It was heartbreaking. I tried not to cry, and did a pretty good job, but I sniffled and Miriam turned her head.She must have seen my face because she rolled over and sat up. “What’s the matter?” she asked.“Nothing,” I lied.She took my hands and I. But right now, she was heading right out of my life at a mighty rate of knots. I cursed all those beers and late-night curries that were slowing me down, and forced myself to try and step up the pace. It didn't last. Another bend, and she was briefly hidden by some trees. By the time I caught sight of her again, she was just a distant shape, and I knew I'd lost her. Three miles later, I had finished well down the list, defeated and demoralised. There was something symbolic about losing my. More

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