My youngest brother and I have the same birthmark on our shoulders: three moles in a diagonal line, perfectly spaced. Same arm. Same size. Same direction. Yesterday, I was watching “The Simpsons” with him at my parents house after having pizza with our grandmother. During a commercial, he said, “John, you know that feeling like you crushing your fingernail?”
“Yes! My @#$%ing finger has been hurting all day. Is it your index finger?”
“My right one.”
My left finger was hurting yesterday, like it got crushed in something. And, while I am clumsy, I know I didn’t crush it in anything. Both our fingers hurt, for no reason. His left, my right. So I have to call our middle brother this weekend to see if both of his hurt, in an act of brotherly symmetry. How creepy and…connecting that would be.
Frikkin cosmic.
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