Ahead of her, Jocelynn went up with one hand on the banister. From behind, in the deep blue wool dress, the change in her was plain in a way it had not been in the foyer; the dress hung where it should have sat, and her shoulder blades stood out beneath it like the frame of a kite.
If Micheline's hair were lighter, the two could pass for sisters. Her parents and her aunt had said it often enough, and Micheline had always thought it was true. Now, as she watched Jocelynn climbing the stairs, she found herself imagining what the past year must have been like to change her cousin so much, and if she could have survived the harrowing things that had left such visible marks on Jocelynn…
Micheline looked away from her cousin, suddenly very uncomfortable with the years of comments about how similar the two of them were.
