The thought of touching my twin sister's breasts had me blinking. I wrenched my gaze from them. Why would I think of Denise like that? She was my sister. My sister. My flesh and blood. And she was a girl. I never stared at girls with hunger like that. I was into boys. Cute boys.Why weren't there any cute boys?A lot of people were flooding into the park all at the same time as we neared the edge. Children ran past us, giggling and laughing. Some of the people were yawning like they'd just woken up from sleep. I arched my back. My phone beeped.I pulled it out and... “Wow. I have a dozen texts and messages I missed.”“Huh?” my twin said, drawing her phone out of her pocket. “I didn't think we were at the park that long. Look at how late it is.”“Shit,” I said. “It didn't feel like we were here for more than fifteen minutes, not over an hour.”“I guess time passes by when...” My sister frowned. “Talking.”“Yeah.” I couldn't quite remember what we were talking about for an hour. Probably boys.. Every time we saw each other, we seemed to have a “moment” that offered just the faintest ray of hope. There was always a look that crossed her face when she saw me, a look that allowed me to believe, for just a moment, that she would end our mutual self-imposed exile and talk to me. But it only lasted a moment before she turns away.One day, at work, my phone rang, and the receptionist, Marla, informed me that she was transferring a call to me.“Hello, this is John, how may I help you?”“John, this is Christine Garrett.”I turned to my computer and started typing in a search to pull up Christine Garrett’s patient account. When it didn’t come up, I paused for a moment, then lightly smacked myself on the forehead. Duh, it’s... “Um, Chris Garrett, Lisa’s sister?”“Right. Right. Sorry, I was a little distracted there. How are you doing?”She sighed. “I’m hanging in there. It’s been rough, but I’m hanging in there.”In the pause that followed, I decided to throw it out there: “How is Lisa? Have.
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