The Third Twin
she said.
“Possibly, yes. Do you never dream these dreams, Maya?”
“I dream of falling and flying. No apocalyptic landscapes. No elephantine shadows. No faces in the trees.”
“No,” Dianna drifted in. “Because your sisters are both alive.”
I stared at her. “Yes. That resonates, Dianna. At Installation Wolf they wanted to bridge the gulf between life and afterlife. These dreams are bridges too. What if . . . what if my third daughter and your sister who died at birth are third twins and through them these bridges exist. In my case I’m the father, so it’s not the same sort of connection. Not like what you have, Dianna, with Dalia, but it exists through the bridge between my daughters. And what if
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