Out in the hallway, the night light cast shadows over her feet. The carpet was matted. The heater hummed. The clock chimed. She paused before entering the bathroom. It was dark and muddled inside. With her palms flat against the walls, she braced herself like a blind person and felt her way to the sink.

She turned on the water. She washed her hands, scrubbed them hard, rubbed them until they were raw. She turned the tap on hotter. She splashed herself with scolding water. She wanted to melt. She let it drip down her face, down her throat, down her chest. Let it soak the lapel of her new silk shirt. She dropped her head until it almost hit the faucet. In its shiny reflection she saw a dimmed image of her face in pieces.

Down at her feet he shivered in a ball. She could hear his teeth chattering. The voice muttered louder. He rocked back and forth. His head beat against the toilet rim each time. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like the torture of a leaky faucet she thought. Tap. Tap. Tap. She turned it on full force.

THEY WERE DANGEROUS

THEY WERE DANGEROUS

Elle was older but Sophia had bigger breasts. Elle knew Sophia pretended not to like the attention they drew but always wore white t-shirts without a bra. She had a habit of talking with her hands folded together on top of her head. It caused her heavy breasts to lift even higher. They looked like nuclear missiles launching into flight. They were dangerous and Sophia knew it.

Everywhere they went people started saying, “Here comes double trouble.” Although they had hung out together all of their lives, that year they suddenly started to receive attention from older men. They were too young to go to bars so they went to cafes instead. Men bought them sweet syrupy coffee drinks and made eyes at them over caramel lattes or steaming mocha biancas. The men said things like, “You’re lucky I’m not your age,” with a wink like an exclamation mark.

These men. They had a thing for women who looked like each other. Elle and Sophia weren’t twins, but they were cousins. This was good enough. They also had a thing for Asian girls, these guys. Whether they were at the mall or a coffee shop, some guy would have to approach with a one-liner in Japanese, or Chinese, or Thai. The men would say, “You’re so exotic, where are you from?” When the girls said Vietnam, the guys would say that they had fought there, or their uncles had, or mention Agent Orange. Or like today, just a moment ago, a software engineer in khaki pants said something dorky about Rambo.