Twins

I just read an article online that has a story in it for me.

Judge for yourself:

In my early twenties, I spent six or seven months in a flat-share with two pretty, quiet non-identical twins. Disappointed at their non-identical status, they devoted most of their time to becoming identical: one would cut her hair, and the other would ensure she had the same amount removed, to the inch; one would buy a handbag, and the other would examine it, and either veto the purchase as not in their style, or invest in a duplicate. Every morning, they did the same hair and make-up—if one girl’s cat eye did not match the other girl’s, they wiped it all off and they started again. If one girl’s parting did not match the other girl’s, they sat side-by-side and corrected it. Both had dyed black hair because this was the easiest color to match. They wore only black for a similar reason. There was a period of time in which one had a boyfriend, and the other would sit at the kitchen table while the two had sex—although I seem to remember that sooner or later, they both stayed inside the room when he came over and did not appear to want to separate at all.

Most intimately in my eyes, the two girls shared a bed.

Now I MUST write this story.