The way we feel is of the body. Bodily. We take the information in and turn it into some physical affliction. Disappointment becomes flu. Guilt becomes cancer. Anger is a migraine churning the bile in our stomachs. The things we have said to each other heat our flesh till one day we spontaneously combust. The stigmata of the things you said to me dripping fluids from the palm of my hands. And we, sisters, who were once conjoined walk free in the world with the raw flesh of our separation still weeping.