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.

talk to me again the way she used to.

Because losing Nora did something to my sister and me.
It did not pull us together, the way people said grief was supposed to do.
It pushed us into opposite corners.

Leila became sharp.
Quick to speak.
Quicker to leave.

I became quiet.
Too quiet, according to Mom.

“You girls need each other,” she told us one night when continue reading …