Switch Hitter

I knew something was wrong the second she walked in the door tonight; I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

 

Same hair color.

Same legs.

Same face.

 

Except… I look harder.

At the small dimple beneath her lip that wasn’t there the last time we went out. And her laugh — that laugh isn’t as loud.

 

This isn’t the girl I’ve gone out with the past few weeks.

It’s her twin sister, and they’ve switched places on me.

 

Only I’m not quite ready to let them switch back.