Memory 1:
It’s dark yet warm. I am confused, puzzled. A bit of mush entwines with my hands. Another me! We both get squeezed out. But this other one has stuff on her head. It is soft like feathers. I have none. My face crinkles up. My eyes water. I am screaming. The other thing mirrors me. We are united.
“He says he can't see you yet” Cassie sighes her amazingly romantic sigh. Her lips are a utopian red, her eyes shadowed a visionary pink coated with a thick layer of mascara to finish it off. “you look,” I start to say, “urr… quixotic?” Soon my cheeks are a deep shade of red, a similar shade to the lipstick she is wearing. A laugh so tender it could sooth the most saddest of babies wanderlusts out of my sisters mouth, “I’ll take that as a complement.” And, in that tiny moment, I see a pigment of the twin cass, the one I used to know.
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