One Open, One Closed. It Was No

One Open, One Closed. It Was No Wonder That The First Image That Came To Mind When I Thought Of Either Of My Sisters Was A Door. With Kirsten, It Was The Front One To Our House, Through Which She Was Always Coming In Or Out, Usually In Mid-sentence, A Gaggle Of Friends Trailing Behind Her. Whitney’s Was The One To Her Bedroom, Which She Preferred To Keep Shut Between Her And The Rest Of Us, Always.