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❝ WE'RE ALL WEARING MASKS. THAT'S WHAT MAKES US INTERESTING. ❞
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Grief can take a person a long, long way.
She still remembers when her mother wept, knees shaking, hysterical screaming echoing off of her. She still remembers walking down the same street, then seeing her past memories flash before her, in a blink of an eye. She still remembers how quickly she left, to cleanse herself of the memories.
And yet she's here, following footprints that aren't her own, going forward into the future she didn't choose.
How long can a person pretend to be their dead sister?
