Same Pod, Different Peas

Whether it was a stark testament to the perfidy of men or was, instead, the result of some innate superiority, Anya excelled in matters of the heart with effortlessly grace while her twin, Adele, languished in anonymity and awkward silence.

While she’d been content to suffer her fate with quiet dignity, Adele had no choice but to respond when her three-year relationship with David ended in his proposal of marriage to Anya.

The doorman in David’s high-rise apartment building saw nothing untoward about his fiancée visiting him and, most certainly, had no reason to suspect she’d shot him to death when she left the premises only minutes later.

Driving away, Adele knew she’d have to hurry to get out of the powder-burned, blood-stained dress and opera gloves and deposit them, along with the gun, in Anya’s trash before the police responded. She couldn’t help but smile, anticipating how awkward it would be for her darling sister to prove her innocence when all evidence pointed to her, seemingly, obvious guilt. 


This story was written for the weekly Five Sentence Fiction prompt: Awkward