first thoughts on second parts, continued

"Cecilia was beautiful, thin and cruel. She had two inches of sable hair styled forward in spit curls, a holdover from her dalliance as a skinhead, and now dated only black men and DJ’s, an unanticipated consequence of her burgeoning Puerto Rican pride. She smoked long skinny cigarettes, and drank vodka from plastic cups on Saturday nights, casting half invitations to rooms full of strangers and sleeping alone. Corola was artistic and kind, as pretty as her sister, three minutes younger, and deferred to Cecilia on the grounds of wrath and whimsy. She lived her life in the endless subtle trepidation of the heavy girl, and their apartment was filled with cheap cabinet doors and random scraps of wood, each adorned by one of Corola’s paintings. She performed an endless labor of repainting them in rotation, and the layers of acrylic told the story of her love and hate for Cecilia. They were forever tied by obligation, genetics, and habit."