The Twins

The twins don’t move, they just flicker. A slideshow of handsome portraits, fanart, manga style. They switch positions in the darkness, being the sort of people who can sprawl and pose at the same time. They’re back to back or lounging against eachother, touching eachother. Almost moving into eachother, merging.
Twin boys. Young men.
Wearing identical, tailored suits like second skins. Straight noses, narrow faces, cruel lips. Smiling. They way they smile it’s like they always make things move their way. No problem. Mirrored lives that flow without a hitch.
I’m suddenly aware that I’m approaching them and not the other way around. I walk and they recline, smiling, smiling.
It’s as if they’ve always been this way. Sharp haircuts, effortless appeal. They haven’t spoken yet, but I already know their voices. I can hear the tones and notes of their words in the back of my mind, chiming like bells.
Feeling short and plain, I sit down in front of them and make eye contact. I do not smile back.
“So,” I say, “what is it you want to tell me?”