Emma
The twins' art show invitation sat on Mom's kitchen table like an accusation. My fingers traced the edges, feeling where Noah had measured precisely to ensure perfect right angles. His careful handwriting listed the exact coordinates of his display: "Third row, second panel, optimal viewing angle 45 degrees. Temperature-controlled environment for crystal stability."
Lottie had added her touch in rainbow glitter pen: "Please come Mommy! The unicorns miss you! And the fairies! And especially me and Noah and Daddy but the unicorns are REALLY sad!"
Little sparkles fell from her enthusiastic exclamation points, catching morning light like tears.
"You haven't touched your breakfast." Mom set fresh coffee beside me - the same chipped mug she'd used to comfort me after Dad left, after we
