The room was growing darker as they spoke. The only light was coming from the dimming sky. Soon, the streetlamps outside would turn on. A neighbor across the street might turn on her unusually bright string lights that looked like chili peppers. There was a comforting feeling of being bodiless in the growing dark, of only being two voices who loved the sound of each other’s rhythms and cadences, that made Ayanna shake off any feelings she had about what her sister was saying.

“I think you could be great,” Ayanna said, and she meant it. Tried to summon up all the conviction in the world, then reached out and felt around until she found her sister’s hand. The exact same size, fingernails also short, a small patch of hair on the knuckle of her middle finger. She clasped her sister’s hand, hoping the feeling would add to the reassurance of her words and give her the strength to not want to conform to their mother’s idea of how her life should be.

They listened to each other’s breaths and kept holding hands. A car drove by, music shouting out the window about every party being ready to drop. Someone walking down the street dribbling a basketball. A firecracker popping.

“I’m mad at Dad because he gave permission to a group of rich assholes to do an ‘expedition of the door.’ They’re making a big donation to the church to keep us from protesting. It’s one of the first times I’ve ever really judged Dad.”

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty.

“You seem too smart to worship a door to nowhere.”

“It’s not nowhere.” They didn’t let go of each other’s hand. Ayanna’s voice was soft. “Sometimes, there’s a place with golden paths and golden plants. There’s music, laughter, and conversations in the air. You can smell your favorite things. There are large trees. Moss. Your beloved dead are there. Sometimes it’s a meadow, always wrapped in the blue hour. It’s always chilly. The grass is long, and there are pink things. Sometimes, they’re in the shape of people or animals or clouds. I think they’re souls. I want to cross through and explore either side. It doesn’t matter, but I’m suspicious that there’s proof, actual proof, because of the voices, the pink things, that everything is reincarnated. And I guess I’m mad at Dad because he won’t let me go. The risks are too high.”

“Why do you think that’s proof? Maybe it’s proof you’ve actually seen aliens? What if all of these are gateways to other worlds? All the stuff you like, it could be like, IDK, some alien technology to make you not be hostile to them.”