She was her own twin, she had to change that much to survive. I loved the old her, I loved the new her, I loved her. What she did to save the others, how she let pain transform her into the hero they needed, that is admirable.
There was something of the summertime in the twins, as if they reflected the warmth of one another, passed it like a beach-ball if the other felt sadness. Perhaps that's what made them so resilient and such a joy to be around. There were, of course, times they fought, but then they were simply as kittens learning how to be cats and it evaporated as quickly as it came.
To all the world they looked like babies, walking on brand new legs, seeing with brand new eyes. If you were to close your eyes and listen to them chatter, you would be forgiven for assuming they were at least five years old. Every word was perfect, their ideas busting into the world like spring flowers, beautiful and natural, only awaiting the right conditions to blossom.
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