“Hey, Giorgie.” Harper braces both palms on her knees, bending until she’s at my sister’s level. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from your brother.” Giorgie selects a picture of a thumbs-up, which reads out the word “good.” She taps over to a page filled with photos of our family members, selecting Elio’s icon followed by a question mark. “No, unfortunately,” Harper says, sharing a laugh with my sister. “I haven’t met that one yet.” “Good,” Giorgie repeats, dissolving into a series of high-pitched giggles. There’s nothing quite as joy-provoking as the sound of her unbridled
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