I...” Abby’s heart thundered like a military drum in her chest. Was this ... was this a Soviet trick?The mirrored Abby stepped up to the real one ...nd slapped her on the cheek. The sound reverberated around the small hotel room, layering over the static spilling from the radio in the corner. “I said, is there anyone else here with you?”“What are you?” Abby rubbed her cheek and stepped back from the imposter. The slap had brought her out of her shock induced stupor. She bent her knees slightly. The older girl suppressed the urge to lurch away, feeling those toes heading straight for her mouth and certainly not wanting a taste. She sucked her lips in, presenting a better surface for Eliza to work on.The brunette stroked her toe on her sister's upper lip, sweaty and slightly moisturized sole pressed right over where her mouth was. She stroked back and forth, taking a moment to rub her toe right against her sister's nostrils - 'moisturizing the tip of her nose' - and found herself belly. Sam had been on the list for a heart transplant for the last 4 years ofher life. No match was found in time. Two days before her 20th birthdayshe had succumbed, and Harold was all alone again. It was so unfair. Shehad only recently become engaged to a real nice guy named Bob. They hadhoped to have children someday. Now Sam was gone, and with her death,the light had gone out of her fathers world.Since then Harold had wandered the back roads of America. Moving aroundfrom one small town to. So he was close and not in Uganda. "No. I have a few girlfriends but not my mother. Is that your real mother?" I replied.I didn't hear from Jake for a few days and then when I was looking for other so called mom-son couples, I saw his response land in my email."Yes, she is my mom." said the email, rather curtly."So should we meet?" I pursued my lead."Ok. How about tonight at Golden Kitten?" "Sure. Golden Kitten at 8." I reponsded."Make it 11. The party doesn't start till midnight." Jake.
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