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On some level, I never stopped wishing for an idyll that had ceased to exist long ago: the four of us together. Four fortune cookies. Four fortunes. Don’t hold on to things that require a tight grip.
My sister swims beyond the ocean crest, part-dolphin, part-girl. Gulls circle and fill the air. A cloud asks, what do you know? No one will love you more or hurt you more than a sister.
