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Sharp little teeth smiled from a photograph at Mary Ellen Shlipher. The teeth were part of the thin lipped dry smile of Mary Ellen's twin sister, so they may as well have been hers. The photograph had yellowed with age, and dust covered some edges so bad that they were nearly impossible to wipe off without crumbling them, but Elizabeth Shlipher looked as crazy as she had when the photo was taken. You can't fake that.

Mary Ellen put the photograph in her pocketbook and stared out the window of the train. The trees and mountains passed quickly with a purplish evening hue misting about them. The leaves rained down from the sky in crisp tones rustling as they fell, yellow orange and red. She could hear them as they crushed against the windows and under the tracks. She had always loved autumn.
As the sun set and the moon rose, Mary Ellen decided she needed a drink. She walked slowly passing the restless children and weary eyed mothers. The business men she paid no mind to, they were after all just business men; nothing honest or magical about business men. They were just too afraid to fly. They didn't enjoy the journey for the journey. Fudge em she thought as she stepped over a brief case that had been left outside a compartment. She gripped her cane tighter as she got into the dining car. She sat down, her long dress trailing behind her. She still dressed and did her hair rather eccentrically (especially eccentric for a ninety year old). A young man overdressed for his job walked over to her little booth.
"What can I get you dear?" he asked with a sincere tone.
"I'll take a scotch and soda love and keep em coming."
"Yes ma'am." He set up a coaster for her and scurried off to grab her drink. She stared out the window again, not seeing the beauty of fall and color, but the yellowed, dusty photograph in her pocketbook. Why did Elizabeth have to die first? She thought with great injustice. Their parents had committed Elizabeth to a mental hospital in Colorado when the girls were in their latter teenage years. Mary Ellen escaped the same fate through years of silence and lies. Twins have a connection. There is no denying it. She shook her head trying to shake the image from her head. It wasn't working.
"Your drink my lady." The young man said as he put it down with grandeur that was undue such a mundane task. His blonde hair was greased back and curled over his un-starched white collar.
"Thanks good sir." She said without a hint of sarcasm as she raised her drink to

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