The next day, Rastle seemed a bit jumpy. He kept moving around to remind himself that he wasn't wheel chair bound. I put the events of yesterday out of my mind, and hugged Rastle.
"Dude, I wish we'd been born, identical twins," I said wistfully. I glanced down and realized I was holding the 8 ball in my hand.
The wind whispered, "Granted."
"Did you hear that?" asked my voice - except I didn't ask it.
I turned and blinked. Rastle was gone or rather he was changed. He was my identical twin. While I'd been imagining myself with his body, the genie or whatever she was had given him a body that was every inch my body's twin.
It's funny he's still wearing his own clothing. It's shrunk to fit his new frame, but somehow he looks like the more sophisticated version of me. I'm reminded of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when Xander gets split in two. I'm the sloppy loser version of myself. Or at least the more self-concious version. Rastle seems to recall us always being twins.
I should never have asked him, if he ever thought maybe we weren't twins or if he wished we weren't twins.
He answered no, but looked terribly hurt.
Some of our friends come over, it's interesting some of our friends are different than before. Fewer jocks hang out with non-jocks I guess. Maybe I should wish we were more athletic? Or maybe I should wish that we shared Rastle's original body?