I would close my eyes and imagine that I could see what my twin saw. I still imagine this sometimes when I’ve been drinking.
I saw hands that looked like mine, but instead of typing at a computer, these hands held tools high above the ground, building skyscrapers.
I always strained my ears, but even when I listened carefully, I could never hear what my twin heard.
Until the scream, when I saw the ground rush to meet me.
I can’t see through his eyes anymore, but I do feel the heat.