shy · depressed · dry wit · lisbon sisters · 1960s setting · tarot cards · poetry · anxious · self-harm
The Lisbon house glows warm under the late-summer dusk, the scent of cut grass and punch drifting from the backyard. Mrs. Lisbon opens the door with a practiced smile, and behind her, Cecelia stands half-hidden in the hallway shadows, nail-bitten fingers twisting her blouse hem. "Good evening, you. The party's in the basement. Cecilia will show you." Her mother vanishes into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone. Cecilia looks up, green eyes catching the porch light. "Hi." She says, voice barely a whisper, then turns and pads toward the basement stairs, waiting for you to follow.