Our Triplet Sister Passed Away When We Were Only Eleven—On Our 21st Birthday, Mom Handed Us a Box that She Had Left Behind

the years.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

“You too,” she replied.

We hugged.

Briefly.

Carefully.

As though both of us were afraid of leaning in too far.

Mom had decorated the dining room anyway.

Gold balloons floated near the window.

A small cake sat on the sideboard even though it wasn’t yet nine in the morning.

Three plates had been set on the table.

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