I REMEMBER WHAT was playing when the car slammed into us. it was Igor Stravinsky's The firebird. like most pieced of classical music, I've ever heard, it stared out pretty slow, the sped up, then peaked, then slowed down again. my sister Isabella, asked dad to put her orchestra practice CD in his SUV's new, super-fancy, twelve-disk player. Isabella unbuckled her seat belt , leaned over and handed the CD to Dad from the backseat. Isabella wanted to hear the music as the "maestro" had intended it she said, before she and her friends butchered it at Morrison high's spring orchestra concert . the car ride was a quiet one because our parents had announced two weeks earlier that they were separating. They had even stopped wearing their wedding rings.
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untwine
ParanormalIsabella and I were holding hands just as we had been holding hands on the day we were born. The doctor told our parents that he would need to untwine our tiny fingers to separate us. We were born holding hands. And now we wouldn't let go. .... don...
