21st and 3rd
“Wait here,” Mitch told me as he descended into the subway at 116th Street, where his brother Darren would be arriving any minute. It was freezing, and all I had under my jacket was a t-shirt, but a little nip in the air wasn’t going to stop me from hanging out with my pals.
Darren and Mitch had been my best friends since seventh grade. They’re twins; that they had certain things in common was only natural, but they couldn’t have been more different from one another in the grand scheme of things. Knowing them for so long, though, I could have told them apart even if I suddenly went blind and deaf.
It was the day before their 21st birthday, and after work I decided to spend some much-needed time with them. Only Darren didn’t know I was coming.
Upon hearing their voices over the receding screech of the subway, I pulled my hood up and leaned against the railing nonchalantly. I saw them emerge in my peripheral vision, turning towards them once I figured they wouldn’t see me. I tiptoed up behind Darren and, in the middle of Broadway on a busy Saturday, pounced him relentlessly. He tensed up, pivoted, saw my face on his shoulder, and practically wilted, a hand clutching his beating heart.
“Dude!” he said, breathing heavily. “I almost just knocked your teeth out!”
