When her mother went to bed, she roamed the house. She would climb onto the kitchen countertop and wait to see her sister come home. But she was afraid of the dark, so she would leave the kitchen light on. When she leaned in close to the glass, all she could see was her own round face staring back at her. But she waited anyway. She would touch her nose to the pane and watch the little cloud grow and shrink as she breathed.

On the loneliest nights, she stretched her legs over the sink and stared at her reflection.