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  • The twins are famous in our town. Two brothers and two sisters. Identical twins married to identical twins. They are always dressed the same - both sets - from matching baseball caps and umbrellas right down to the laces on their shoes. The twins are getting up there in years. They don't drive a car, they walk everywhere they go. This is probably the secret to their longevity.

    I heave a sigh every time I spot them. For some reason, a twin sighting always foretells some degree of personal misfortune for me. It might be something small, like when I ran into the twins at the local Farmer's Market and immediately dropped a carton of eggs on the cement floor. No survivors there. Or it might be something big, like seeing the twins as I was coming down the steps, stopping and letting them pass, then continuing when the coast was clear, only to trip and break my arm.

    Out of a sense of self-preservation, I began to avoid streets the twins have been known to frequent. I thought I had outsmarted them, until the twins turned up on a street where I hadn't expected to see them. There they were, in broad daylight. Both of the men in button down plaid shirts with suspenders, both of the women in pink cardigans and permanent waves. Adrenaline shot through me and I reflexively hit the gas pedal.

    I paid the speeding ticket today.

    (a note of apology to readers who happen to be twins. Not all twins have this effect on me, thank goodness...)



    image source: creative commons: george eastman house
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