It was only the beginning of summer. Two girls—identical from the black hair on their head to the nails on their toes—stood in front of a lake, holding hands. The only thing that separated them was the birthmark sitting at the back of the twin by the left.
“Should we go in?” the little girl on the right asked, her voice extremely tiny and innocent.
Her sister shrugged, staring ahead with a blank expression plastered on her face. She squinted at the water, watching how the sunlight danced across its surface, turning it into something deceptively gentle. “Maybe,” she said at last. “Mama said we shouldn’t go too deep.”
Gloria squeezed her hand tighter, excitement bubbling through her small frame. “But it looks warm today. And Mama said we could play near the edge.”
“Near the edge,” Gisell
