Marge stood naked as a jaybird at the kitchen sink. The air was so hot, she had peeled her thin dress off and thrown it on the floor. She wasn’t an especially attractive woman. She was tall, lanky, and flat-chested. And she was almost forty, unmarried, and poor as the floor her dusty feet stood upon. The floor caved under her pressure, and where she stood, the linoleum squares slanted downward into a depression. She shoved her head in the icebox to cool off, then laid on the yellow floor like a cat. Her grandmother’s voice rang in her ear. ‘Heat rises. Lay down on that darn floor. You’ll cool off ‘enuff.’ A knock came at the door and Marge hurled herself up, slapping her dress back on. “I’m here. Give me a sec.” It was the other Margaret—known as Margaret— her neighbor. Because they both had the same name,…