To Confess or Not to Confess

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I arrived back in Scranton just after four o’clock.  My sister had sent me a text message at 1 p.m., while I was still in New York, telling me that my mother wanted her car back by 4 p.m.  It takes about two hours or so to drive from New York to Scranton.  Her abrupt text left me just barely enough time.  So, I grabbed a big bag of laundry, hopped in the car, and drove west.  Somewhere in the middle of New Jersey a flash of white heat overtook me when I realized that I had forgotten the paperwork that I had driven all the way out there to retrieve.  I actually found myself in a cold sweat.  I don’t think that has ever happened to me before.  And frankly it’s all because of my sister.  Or I suppose I should say because of the power I give her over me.