There was the slightest feeling of ‘wrongness’.

That’s the best way I can describe looking at my twin sister as she pranced around in clothes that by rights, should have been far too small for her. And yet there she was, spinning around our attic dressed in the same overalls and pastel colored t-shirt that I had last seen her in nearly twenty years ago.

“Um…” I started, and she hopped over to me.

“I know, huh?” she exclaimed, giggling happily. “I can’t believe this stuff still fits!”

“Yeah, about that…I mean, I know you’re a midget and all, but…”

“But nothing, rabbit-ears!” She said, sticking her tongue out at me as she tossed something in my direction. “Look, I even found some of your old stinky pajamas…”

Sure enough, the red and black racecar that stared up at me from the shirt’s chest was a familiar old friend from my childhood. But where had she found this stuff?

It was almost unconscious, my next actions. Maybe it was due to the fact that we were twins, with Samita’s actions pulling me along with her. Whatever the case, I found myself stripping off my red and gold uniform, leaving my adult world behind in a pile on the floor as I tried to pull my old shirt over my head. I wasn’t really surprised that it slid over easily, despite some initial resistance…I guess I should have been, but I wasn’t. The cotton pants with the elastic waist band too, and I know I’ve put on a few pounds and inches since I was five.

And then…my narrative stops. Because I stop thinking. At least, thinking as I’ve done for the past two decades. Things were bright, colorful, and there was a ball, and my sister was there and we romped around like the kits we pretended to be.

Until of course, I heard the garage door start to hum, an imminent sign that my wife would soon be joining us. Snapping back to my senses, I pulled off the pajama top, and feeling silly, stepped out of the bottoms. Casting around, I found my EMT jacket and started to put it back on, taken for a moment at how heavy it was. As I put my arms in the sleeves, I realized something was wrong. My hands didn’t appear at the ends. Instead, they hung halfway, as though my arms didn’t reach.

There was an old mirror up here in the attic, and as I turned to voice my concerns to my sister, I caught sight of myself within it. I looked like a child playing dress-up in his dad’s clothes. Transfixed, I stared at my younger self and would have continued to, had it not been for my wife walking into the room…