The phenomenon of twins has always been something of a wonder to my like mind. How both can gain the same disease that only originates in the tropics when one resides halfway across the world can only remain a question of possibility. There must be that small etching of doubt when you hear on the phone, just after you have told them of your own sickness, that the symptoms there are comparable to yours. There is also that question of, as I have heard it called, twin telepathy. Do their thoughts really trail through your mind? Of course there may be the moments when one may be surprised at the likewise thoughts of their twin, but perhaps they have been around each other for so long that a similar answer would come to their mind. My favourite question though, asked on multiple occasions, with, I would suppose, an obvious answer; ‘when you look in the mirror, how do you know it’s you and not your twin?’ Well perhaps this may be able to delve into something philosophical that would extend to the whole human race, but in these situations, that is not the case. When I look in the mirror, I can be sure it is me. I know it is my hair, my eyes, all me. Granted I can't tell the difference between me and my sister in photos of when we were younger, but in the mirror there is no doubt. But still it makes me wonder why that is such a common question.
I doub we'll ever gain an obscure sickness at the same time; we rarely shared a cold at the same. I also doubt we'll ever really know what the other is thinking; no more than the slight coincidental spur. And what I will always be absolutely certain of is that whenever I look in a mirror it will be me, and not the one that looks so much alike.