I watched her arrange her toys in a neat line, all ordered the same way each day. She was my autistic sister, Morgan. Nobody knew her well. My mom kep..
Morgan let her fingers dance on the keyboard. One hand was twirling out into the lower notes, while another was occupying a high octave, moving up and..
Images of Morgan laughing, speaking, acknowledging my existence run through my mind as I sleep. Morgan had friends, inside-jokes, and she was happy. M..