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Lily POV: I wake with the choking sense of sea water in my throat and I realized I was home. My memories came to me that I also took Ryan to my house. Well more like a small cabin next to the lighthouse where my dad used to sleep when he worked on the light house. I sit upright fisting my white sheets in both hands. My head throbs and it took a moment to oritent myself of what happened last night. I push back the sheet and stretched my toes over the hardwood floor, feeling stiff and achy and like a hammer is cracking against my skull from the inside. Sunlight peeps through the yellow curtains, reflecting off the white walls and the white dresser, and the high white ceiling-blinding me. I press my fingers to my eyes and yawn. In the full-length mirror mounted to the closet door, I catch my reflection. Dark circles rim both eyes, my ponytail partway freeso that strands of coffee-brown hair drifts across my face. I look horrible.The floor is cold, but I plod to one of the massive windows overlooking the choppy sea and slide the window upward in its frame. In the wind I can hear it: the faint cry of a song...the three sisters begining their search...

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The scent of powdered sugar and maple syrup bangs in the air like a soft winter snowflake. I find her in the kitchen standing at the stove-Mom-her dark hair tied in a braid down her back, a serpent of brown, folded and coiled. And I feel like I'm still caught in a dream, my head swirling, my body rocking side to side like it's being pushed inland by an invisible tide. "Are you hungry?" she asks without turning around. I absorb her movements, the sedated way she slides the spatula under a doughy pancake and flips it in the pan. She doesn't usually make breakfast-not anymore-so this is a rare occurrence. Something's up. For a moment I let a memory materialize in my mind: her making waffles with homemade jam, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove, her eyes and lips smiling, the morning sun of the face... but that was when dad was here. I touched my stomach, clenched and queasy. "Not really," I answer. I move past her to the counter, where a row of identical silver tins sit perfectly spaced.I took the Rose Earl Grey and boiled water to then set my tea-and lean against the counter breathing in the rustic, sweet scent. "We have guests," she said suddenly, sliding the lightly browned pancakes onto the white plate. I glanced around the kitchen then back to her. The house is silent. "Who?" She looks over to me and stares for a moment. She dropped her gaze. "That boy you brought to the island yesterday," she said. "Oh, Ryan is here to work for the lighthouse." I replied."Well," she says, turning around to face me and sliding her hands down into the pockets of her thick black robe, "he's just waking up. Take him some breakfast. I don't want a stranger inside the house. And also some blankets." I grab all the stuff and went towards the cabin next time the lighthouse. The sturdy wood door rattles when I knock, and Ryan opens it almost instantly, as if he has been just about to step outside. "Morning," I said.

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