by Corey Mesler
Perhaps this. Perhaps I was a Siamese twin at birth and, through a remarkable, historic even, operation was successfully separated, and the twin, alive though deformed, say, was put--where?-- in a home or somewhere. It's crazy, I know, an absurd idea. But the feeling remains. It occasionally flickers through me like dyspepsia. Sometimes my heart hurts, as if, almost as if, another heart were being torn away from it. Literally, physically pulled apart, ventricle rending ventricle. The pain in my chest is momentary, but the lingering hollowness, the longing haunts me.
Somewhere maybe my twin cries. Wrenched awake from a freak's dream by a terrific palpitation. An existential arrhythmia. And perhaps he/she knows. And dreams about it, me.
I lie awake all night. My phone rings one-half time.