The Lost Sisters -

We’re not lost forever. We’re just waiting for someone to pick up the phone.

I think about them more than I say. I wonder if they think about me. The Lost Sisters

Ella was the older one — fierce, protective, the one who braided my hair before the first day of school. Maya was the middle child, quiet and watchful, always sketching in a spiral notebook. I was the youngest, trailing behind them like a shadow with pigtails. We’re not lost forever

The last time the three of us were in the same room, we talked about the weather and the Wi-Fi password. Not about the summer we built a fort in the living room, or the night we swore we saw a ghost in the hallway, or how Ella used to sneak us candy before dinner while Maya drew flowers on our hands. I wonder if they think about me