MIDOxRI

"I would like a Barbie for my birthday," said my young sister one day, in the words that would start a spiral of change.  I looked up from my task of packing a small bag and stared at her.  I took in the slight tremble of her chin, the watery gaze of her dark eyes, the way she tugged at a strand of her auburn hair.  She matched me in more ways than just looks.  She, like me, did not ask unnecessary questions.  We didn't rely on others for stuff, but rather put suggestions out there and hoped that they would be taken.   "Why?" I asked after a moment of staring across the cave, where