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"One Glove"
By Christine Stoddard Once upon a time, two little girls lived in a small, muddy town.From their tearful eyes to their soft hair and round fingers, theywere identical. Even in action, Maurya and Macayla mirrored eachother. Because their mother dressed them in the same white lacedresses, nobody could tell them apart, not even their own family.The twins played, breathed, and lived together. Like the most passionate of lovers, their hearts assumed the same rhythm. And that is what happened during their trip to town on thatsteaming May Day proved so tragic. Maurya and Macayla, in a flourish of rebellion, chose to playhooky that day. They had agreed to skip school the previous night,as they lied in their shoddy bed together. So the next morning, astheir parents toiled away on the farm, the twins relished thesunshine and butterflies. Anyone five years older than they wouldhave looked upon the scene with fond remembrance of simpler times.The two girls kissed their parents farewell and pretended to headoff to their lessons. But instead of making the trek to theschoolhouse, they stopped at a stonewall at the edge of their farm.Then they sat down and kicked their bare feet through thewildflowers that grew there. An hour or two of idle conversation passed before the children felt hungry and dug into their lunch pails.Maurya bit into her warm cheese sandwich and Macayla bit intohers. The cheese had been fresh that morning when they packedtheir lunches but now it was on the verge of spoiling beneath thelate spring sun.
 
 Maurya spat out the bite she and taken and scrunched up her face. "Oh, it's not that bad," Macayla muttered, in a rare instance of divergence from her sister. "You say that," Maurya shot back, "But you were the one who gotsick last weekend at the picnic, not me." "The food didn't make me sick. Mommy said the ham was fine. Itwas the water, she said. The water in that part of town is bad." Maurya shook her head. "No, it was the ham. It tasted funny, Iremember. Now let's throw these away and get something else toeat." "There's nothing else left in the kitchen except for the ice cream." "Why can't we have that?" "'Cause Mommy said to wait. You know that. We're bringing it toLucy's birthday party." Maurya sighed and remained quiet for a moment. Then shesqueezed a daisy head in between her toes. She plucked the headoff and laughed. Macayla copied her but did not laugh. "Macayla, I have an idea." "Okay, but we're not eating the ice cream." "I know. But I'm still hungry. Let's go into town. We still have our allowance."Macayla shrugged her shoulders and jumped off the wall with her 
 
sister. They pressed their pink feet to the gravel path before them,holding hands and chatting as the crows above them cawed. Theywalked beneath dead tree after dead tree until they reached thetown nearest to their home.The streets were empty while everyone toiled at work or school. Nobody expected the twins to be wandering around from businessto business. Nobody expected anyone to be wandering around atall. In fact, most of the stores were closed and would not open untillater in the afternoon. It was the town’s unusual way.Maurya and Macayla saw that the butcher shop was open. Its door hung out into the street. Figuring that they could buy a coupleslices of ham, the girls pulled out their coins and stepped into thestore.A whirring sound, like that of a machine pressed to bone,inundated the small space in which they stood. But they could notsee the butcher at work. He was in the backroom.“We could come back later,” Maurya mouthed.Macayla refused. “I’m hungry now. Besides, I bet he’s almostdone.”The twins remained at the very entrance of the store yet quicklygrew impatient. Maurya began poking Macayla and Macayla poked her back. Soon enough, they were darting back and forth,chasing each other within a four or five foot radius.It was Maurya who dared escape the girls’ imaginary circle. She jumped so far out of it that her back pressed against the glass meatcase. Macayla stood still, too timid to get so close to the source of that unnerving sound.
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