She has all my features.

Clara looks at me, "We never talked about that, did we?" she says, patting the boulder beside her, inviting me to sit.

I walk over and sit next to her.

Looking out, I see the garden's back section merging seamlessly - no paths, just trees and daisies.

Puna lies down at my feet.

"We look alike because you represent your family," she explains, turning to face me.

"I never fully understood ...