Jack of Harts

Rosalie looked me dead in the eyes when I hugged her and told me that Rosalind was her sister. It was easy for me to recognize the signs. She meant it. She HAD to mean it. If she ever questioned it, she wasn’t certain how she could handle it. And if I questioned it, she might question it too. So I looked at Rosalind and saw the person who chose to be born so she could save one of my best friends in all the worlds from just fading away. I’d be an awful poor friend if I failed to recognize that. Act on that. So I apologized to Rosalind, opened an arm to invite her into the hug, and told her to never let me hug just one of them ever again. She smiled and hugged me back.