Without a word to anyone, she began to plot. The boy would think twin language. He would ask himself whether he was thinking or speaking or she was. She would respond by asking the same.
The laminated airline safety placard said put your oxygen mask on first then help your child.
Long deep breaths. Twins can help each other. Twins, triplets, multiples all over the world. New empathic sinews in the body psychic. Countless selfish lines where we can all disappear into our mirrors.
Terminal stars still look good to us, it's true.
And, given the extended delay that forms the present around us, she could ask: You ready to split?
And he'd heard that before, so was ready.
Then the story'd start.
Then the story'd start.
