"Aoife." Joyce breathed out the word like it was a curse.
"Hello sister," she smiled, her red painted lips stretched into a sneerlike smile. "Hopefully Leon did not bother you much. He has a tendency to keep on talking until told to stop."
Aoife had changed greatly. She still appeared to be the 21-year-old girl, but seemingly looked more like a woman. She dressed like a woman. Her makeup was done to make her look older, more mature, and it was done professionally.
Her clothes made her look like she was a woman who knew what she was doing. She was purposely dressing older.
But why?
Joyce looked away for a quick second before coming back to her sister. "Why am I here, Aoife? We broke toys a long time ago. It has been years."
"Yes. It has." Her eyes twinkled into light, and Joyce did not like that. Delight was the exact opposite of what Joyce felt at the moment.
