“Perfect timing—avoiding confrontation, as usual. Ignoring me, as usual.Hard to believe we were full-blooded sisters; we were exact opposites in so many ways. She was small and round—softly feminine with an ample chest, hips, and ass—whereas I was tall, long limbed and leanly muscled. Not a soft thing about me, inside or out. Hope’s fairer skin, blue eyes, and curly light brown hair were courtesy of our father and his Germanic forbearers.My straight hair was the color of mahogany, as my mother’s... had been. My skin wasn’t the reddish gold of our grandmother’s tribe, but as a quarter Minneconjou Sioux, my pigmentation held enough of the darker undertones that allowed me to easily pass as an ethnic woman in Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Bosnia, and the other war-torn countries I’d been lurking in for the better part of two decades.Hope and I did share the sharp Aryan facial features of Dad’s European ancestors. I had mom’s eye color: an odd shade of hazel that changed from green to brown with my mood.What was Hope’s mood today?Dressed in a floral-patterned gauzy tunic and frayed 501 cutoffs, she looked like a teenage hippie.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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