Athabasca

The twins always held hands on family vacations. As soon as they were out of the car they were inseparable. Their father preferred it this way as it was the best method to keep track of both of them. Anne and Sarah never developed their own special language but when one was scared she would squeeze the other’s hand one long squeeze. One short squeeze meant No, two squeezes meant Yes. Three squeezes meant

I. Love. You.

The Falls attract thousands of tourists each year and on this day, while most were leaning over the safety rail and gazing into the silver mist filling the narrow canyon of the falls, the twins were looking up at the lonely Jack pine leering high above their heads. Above the pine were dark grey clouds swirling and frothing like something in a pot mother left too long on the stove. Anne squeezed Sarah’s hand one long squeeze. Sarah squeezed back three times.

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