Sitting on the top stair in my childhood house with my sister when I was 4 or 5 and she was 6 or 7. She was teaching me how to read using One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. I was at the cusp of figuring it out and she was helping me sound everything out when it suddenly clicked for me. I started reading the whole book with minimal help from her. I got super excited and she was very happy for me. I paused for a moment after the excitement and then processed what the book was about and thought to myself something along the lines of, “What is this weird colored fish thing, it doesn’t make any sense!”

I think that’s the moment I realized I wasn’t really a fan of fiction. But the happy part was my sister helping me.