Lightbearer

by L.C. Davis

We’re twins, but she got all the stick-up-the-ass genes and I got all the anxiety and our mom’s penchant for day drinking. Definitely the short end of the stick, but again, at least it’s not up my ass.

Her brown hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun--or maybe it was a cinnamon roll. Hard to tell.

“Shit.” And here I was hoping that wasn’t it. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. We empty our bank accounts, you cut off your hair, I’ll dress in drag and we’ll go to Monaco to start over. We’ll be llama farmers. Do they have llamas in Monaco? Never mind, we’ll figure it out when we get there.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why is drag your solution to everything?” “I look amazing in fishnets,”

“You’re saying our imaginary demon baby came to life and ate its siblings?” I croaked.