Both women were sisters in law married to two brothers. F was married to the eldest brother, while M had married the youngest. They took to dressing alike, and in no time they looked real sisters.
They loved shirts patterned with large flowers, or graphic designs. This made them look over weight more than they actually were. It was written in our fate to meet at a fabric store from time to time, sometimes sooner, at other times more than a year.
I always forgot the older lady’s own name although her husband’s name never did the disappearing act from my memory. Both put too much make up onto their faces. They used the identical shade of lipstick –the color red, with eyes rimmed in black.
They came to offer condolences on my husband’s death. They had changed in the few years we didn’t meet. No more identical copies of each other, they looked slim and smart. Their clothes looked elegant. They wore soft colors, and their make up was subtle. A change that made me blink at them, not recognizing them at first glance among the swarming people who came to our home. I was mentally floating in a sea of sorrow. It must have been a reason too.
It was a radical change!
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