I smile, knowing he’s joking.
He smiles.
I tell him, “Iron works fast and doesn’t mess around.”
“Damn, he looks just like me. It’s somewhat creepy. He gave me chills. I literally shook in his presence.”
“Your brother from the same mother that you don’t know about. We all have doppelgangers. Most of us just never see them.”
I sip my coffee. An empty grocery list sits in front of me next to my favorite Waterman pen. I’m just beginning to concoct scribbles of what provisions need to be picked up at Manchura’s Market for the cocktail party on the sixth.
He sips his coffee and cranes his neck like a cat, suspicious of my labor.
I turn my head in his direction. Our stares are intense, unbreakable, with a hint of lust at the edges. Do we have time for a quickie? Maybe. Maybe not. Neither o
