My brother and I are twins. When I was very little, my father took me to get a haircut and left my brother at home with my mother. As we were out, I kept tugging my dad’s hand, insisting, “Bob’s hurt,” over and over again.
My dad found it strange and immediately called home. No one picked up. Concerned, we rushed back. Arriving to an eerily silent house (this was before cell phones), we waited anxiously. Finally, my mother returned with my brother, who had fallen and needed stitches.
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