sundaygir1

TWO Matters "What do you mean?" Zora's eyes were hard and black as onyx stone, the space between her brows marked with two small lines. Her voice was low and level, sight playing between each of her sister's eyes in turn. The air between the them burned livid with silent unanswered questions.     Summer sun streamed in through the low room's unglazed glass windows, mounted high in the flat ceiling. The broad azure sweep of the morning sky blazed brightly above, admitting a dazzling lemon light into the dark-wooded space. Its was a room used by the Wyllow's patron family as a personal dining hall---a place thick with memory, both sweet an