My sister’s home was a two-story Spanish-mission style. Probably built less than twenty years ago and surrounded by other similar homes in a nice middle-class suburban area. I parked the rental car directly in front, sort of surprised at the lack of cars around her home, having thought she’d be inundated with friends and family visiting.
She was already standing at the front door waiting for us as we approached with our suitcases.
Raine’s hair was the same sandy-blonde shade as mine, but I recalled she had always referred to it as honey colored. Just now she had it up in a sort of knotted bun. She had the same deep-blue eyes as me, too. Currently hers were rimmed in red. She was, of course, about a foot shorter than my six feet. She came to about the middle of my chest. She’d always been
