There were so many nights that summer when Caitlin and I would be in the same place, but not be together. She would be focused on him, I would be focused on some catch of the week. But we would both be perpetuating the madness further and further, and we knew that, so we didn't need to talk. If we stumbled across each other in the bathroom we'd just share a look and collapse laughing. Or we'd cast a look across a dark bar, distraught, and the other would nod her head, showing her wordless support. There was no need to ask how the other was, we always knew, instinctively. And we were always there for the other, not as a sound board, but as a mirror.
I've always found the concept of real twins being so connected that they could feel the other's physical pain fascinating. My twin is not similar in the physical so I didn't know until she told me that she broke her arm. But that summer, her feelings lay over my heart like a blanket, and I could feel what she felt with each and every rapid beat.
With my twin, only emotions are identical.
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