But I froze. Because this girl was not Kira. She too had long black hair, but this child’s was sleek and wavy instead of pin-straight like Kira’s had been. Her features were different, though I saw myself in them still. Her eyes were wider, and green instead of dark brown—amber-green, like the sun shining through leaves. A familiar green. And then it hit me: The burning girl was not my sister. The burning girl was my daughter.
sorry??????
