her to stay. She told me not to tell our parents, and I complied. My sister snuck through the window, which I closed as quietly as possible. I watched every step she took. I watched until she was out of sight. That was the last time I ever saw her. With my shoes back on my feet, I feel the sand grind between my toes. My soaked shorts chill the skin underneath. I walk up the steep sidewalk farther from the beach and the sea: my sister’s home. 51 PLAINS paradox