A man, some friend of a friend, sat at our table. Never caught his name. He looked from Viola to me, from me to Viola, back and forth. After a think, he asked us, “Are you two sisters?”
No, we both agreed. We were not sisters. Not in the least.
“Because you look a lot alike. A lot alike,” he insisted as we shook our heads. He obviously hadn’t seen us kissing mere moments ago.
…Or had he? If I knew the answer to that one, I would know worlds about this man without ever having to learn his name.