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my license. Said my eyes
don’t work so good anymore.
Hate to admit they’re right.
The banter picks up speed in
the kitchen as Mom and Misty
and Leigh and Kristina start
yakking girl talk. Enough, already.
I’m on my way to the family room
when the doorbell rings. Nikki?
She’s early, but that’s all good.
I swing the door open. “Nik!”
Autumn
THIS HOUSE IS INSANE
Insane, as in beautiful.
I stand on the front porch,
staring up at the tall doors.
Oak, with beveled stained glass.
I wait for the familiar tingle
in my fingers. But I don’t
feel close to panic. I reach
out. Ring the doorbell.
The door jerks open. Nik!
But I’m not Nik, whoever he
is, and the boy who is waiting
for him is confused. Uh …
Can I help you? He is older
than me by a year or two,
with mink-colored hair and
eyes an unusual shade of green.
We are related, but I’m not
