Our triplet sister died when we were eleven—until a box arrived on our 21st birthday that revealed she might not have been gone at all.

her slippers stayed for three weeks because Mom could not bring herself to move them.
In the bathroom where her toothbrush remained beside ours.
In the bedroom we had shared, where Leila slept facing the wall and I stared at Nora’s empty bed until morning.

After Nora, birthdays became strange.

There were still balloons, cake, and candles.

But there was continue reading …