Once upon a time, I was only twelve minutes and thirteen seconds older than my sister. Now, I’m twenty-two. She’s still seventeen. Five whole fucking years separate us. I can’t imagine the loss of a sibling is easy for anyone, but it’s definitely a special brand of torture when you’re a twin, and have to carry the knowledge with you that your headstones will only share the one date. It’s one of those things you don’t really think about—that you’ll come into this world together, but go out separately. Not until they’re gone, and you’re left behind, and now you have to suffer through year after
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