The spies in the movies were tough. They were fearless. They knew how to stab with pencils and strangle with string, and they never, ever cried because their twin sister was about to have her heart pulled out of her chest and then sewn back together—again. They wore fancy dresses and drove fancier cars, and they didn’t need the person in the twin bed on the far side of the room because they weren’t half—they were whole. And they learned it all on some farm in Virginia.
