Walking down the street, I swore I saw a face that didn’t belong there. It was a fleeting glance, but I was absolutely certain that a friend from out of town had happened upon the same strip of bricked-out walkway.

On a typical day, I would have investigated this further, had my hunch either confirmed or disproved. But walking with others and en route to a destination, I simply looked over my shoulder, furrowed my brow and continued on my way.

I’m always amused to hear where my various twins have run into acquaintances. I’ve been non-spotted at a stellastarr* show, non-smiled at on Boston Common, even given a ride by a colleague who didn’t realize until the car was in motion that I was, in fact, not me.

(Apparently my twins aren’t the brightest and accept rides from strangers. Who knew?)

I thought of dropping a quick line or making a phone call to relay this sighting to the person with whom I must have gotten the stranger confused. Hey, I just passed by your twin. It was almost a little freaky. Thought you’d be amused.

But then there’s the fact that I don’t know for sure that it wasn’t the person I thought it was — and if that is the case, part of me doesn’t want to know that the person was happened to be in my town and never happened to let me know.

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