observation #2

Ankles. 

These ankles weren’t mine but they could have been. Slender and pale, attached to the same white sneakers that I was wearing. “Twins,” I thought, “Our ankles could be twins.” Ankle soul-mates perhaps. I followed the ankles up and quite soon, all similarities began to fade. A pair of blue jeans, baggy and ripped at the knee, an orange sweater and a shaved head… This set of ankles, so like my very own, belonged to that of a youngish boy – leaning against the silver railing of the park’s bench and smoking a cigarette with such ease.

Huh.

If our ankles were placed together, side-by-side in a police lineup, would my mum be able to tell them apart?