Twins
Dear Diary:
I am in my early 30s and live in Brooklyn. I have a neighbor who I would guess is about twice my age. For the past few months, whenever I have seen her on the sidewalk I have complimented her on what she was wearing, and she has done the same for me.
One day, I stepped out of my building as she was walking past. We were wearing the same jeans, same Breton stripe T-shirts, same dark sunglasses, even the same gold necklace.
We stopped and pointed at each other.
“Good outfit,” I said.
“Good outfit,” she said.
Looking down, I noticed that she had on black flats. I had on sneakers.
“You should go back and change,” she said.
I took a picture of the two of us, and we parted ways.
A week later, I saw her again. She was with her partner.
“This is my twin,” she said.
“I changed into the flats,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “I knew they’d look better.”
She pulled a picture of her daughter up on her phone. She was about my age and had the same blond hair.
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