In a darkened corner of this room, say there, by the dresser, and you saw that figure, crumple drunk and caught in that slice of landing light, now blotted by her shape, stood backlit and watching, her shadow stretching to the bed, until it lies with the body, asking what is wrong, and the body says something, something like sad, and sad at this she takes the hand, saying Look! Your hands are my hands… and look! Your feet are my feet… and still the body says sad, sad for the lost years the never knowing, sad for the everything gone that never comes back. And what if she curls closer? Saying we are each other, we’re the same no matter what… And say you saw from your darkened corner, a kiss that held, a half moment longer, a half-degree stronger than half-siblings should… Would you?... Would you understand?