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the deft skill of a surgeon to swiftly select exactly the right combinations of creams and gels and tints for her twin. “Let’s get a free makeover!” Merry suggested.
    “Enough, Mer,” Mallory said. “I have product fatigue.”
    “Oh, fine. Who gets tired after less than an hour of shopping? It’s like being on a date with a dead person.”
    “You should know,” said her twin. “I’ve never seen one. At least, walking around.” Meredith rolled her eyes. Because she saw deep into the past, she had, at various points in her life, seen people whom she described to her sister as “technically dead.” Mallory never understood the qualifier “technically,” but Merry never really wanted to talk about it. It raised questions about religion that Merry told Mally she wasn’t sure she could answer to a certainty, at least at this time in her life.
    “I wish you could see ghosts,” Meredith said thoughtfully, as she went on subtly dabbing different shades onto her sister’s cheeks, giving the impression to passersby that there were two identical people, one of whom was mute. Mallory stood like a mannequin but widened her eyes in mock horror. “It’s not like you think. They’re interesting. I’ve been seeing ghosts even more lately. Keech innis,” she continued, switching into their own language as a sales associate passed by and raised both eyebrows. When Mallory heard what her twin was saying, which translated to “in our house,” her eyes widened in alarm.
    Mallory asked, “Can I move my lips now?” Merry nodded, satisfied.
    “In our house? You’re seeing ghosts more in our house?” Mally asked. “More ghosts or more often?”
    “Not just our house,” Meredith went on calmly. “I see them other places too. I must say, you look nice. People wouldn’t know it was you. I do have a gift. You can barely tell you have makeup on.”
    “So I’m paying fifty-six dollars for something people can’t tell I have on,” Mallory said. “We were talking about ghosts, Mer. Where in our house and where else?”
    “Well, obviously, I see them in cemeteries, when we pass a cemetery,” Merry said.
    “At night?” Mally asked.
    “Don’t be a twit. As if ghosts care if they come out in the daytime or at night,” Merry said. The sales girl was openly listening now, but Merry was beginning to enjoy both the salesgirl’s and Mally’s discomfort. Their history meant that Mallory usually “saw” the harrowing things—the acts of cruelty and danger that lay ahead. And though Merry was not in the least afraid of ghosts, she knew other people were, if only because the unknown was always more ominous than anything someone could think up.
    “What are they doing?” Mallory asked then. “In the cemeteries?”
    “In cemeteries, what do you think? Just sitting around talking. On the street, the same thing we are, except obviously they’re looking for something we don’t see. I saw a man once last year looking down into the little lake thing at the golf course by Grandma’s house and then up at the sky, and I realized he must have been looking for a house that used to be there before.... I don’t know how long before. And I saw a woman come down from the ridge, in her nightgown, in bare feet, in the snow, but not walking on the path.”
    “Do ... do you want some, uh, samples?” said the salesperson.
    “You bet,” Meredith said, as the girl, who was probably in her twenties, stuffed a bag chock-full of moisturizers and little cologne sprays. “Thanks and bye now.” The girl rushed away in the storage area.
    “She just wanted us to leave,” Mallory said. “What if she tells someone?”
    Meredith smiled. “I used to worry about that but ... imagine what they’d think of what she said.”
    “I guess,” Mallory said, smiling too. “But I want to hear more about this, Mer.”
    “Fine. I just don’t want to talk about immortality because I don’t know if ghosts are memory impressions or really