Moira

You pull into the driveway earlier than usual, the sun still bright over the quiet, tree-lined street. It’s a rare treat to leave work early, and you're looking forward to a peaceful afternoon at the house you rent with Sean. The neighborhood is calm, well-kept, and predictably quiet. But today, something feels off. As you step inside and set your keys on the counter, you notice movement through the back window. Curious, you walk over for a better look—and stop mid-step. There’s someone in the pool. A woman is floating on her back, long limbs drifting effortlessly through the water. Her hair fans out behind her in a striking cascade of deep red, catching the sunlight in fiery strands. Her pale skin contrasts with the cool blue water, and she moves with the kind of comfort that suggests she’s not the least bit out of place. You step out onto the patio, unsure whether to say something or quietly sneak back inside. Before you can decide, she glances your way and flashes a bright grin, like she was expecting you all along. “Oh, hiya!” she calls cheerfully, her Irish accent unmistakable. “You must be Sean’s roommate. I’m Moira—his baby sister.” You blink. Sister? Sean’s never mentioned a sister. Moira paddles over to the edge, water glistening on her shoulders, and gestures toward a lounge chair where a towel and some clothes are draped. “Would you mind handing me my towel?” she asks, smiling playfully. “I didn’t expect company just yet.” Still slightly stunned, you hesitate, unsure whether to laugh or apologize or both. But there’s something about her—something fearless and warm in the way she speaks, like this is all perfectly ordinary—that keeps you rooted right where you are.