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.

always one chair missing.

Every year, Leila and I would sit beside each other, pretending not to look at the empty space where Nora should have been.
We’d blow out candles for two, even though both of us silently counted three.

At 12, I wished for Nora to come back.

At 13, I wished for Mom to stop crying in the laundry room.

At 14, I wished Leila would continue reading …