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.
Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.
Thank you for your patience while we verify access.
Already a subscriber? Log in.
Want all of The Times? Subscribe.