“What was that?” Winston asked his twin, to which he answered, “Some kind of predatorial animal that could probably kill us both.”
“But-but what about my brother?” Garnet coughed and replied, “Would I really hurt my best friend’s twin?”
“Garnet?” Doyle inquired.
“The very same. Did you think I wouldn’t get you back? You put roaches in my hairbrush,” she answered, surprisingly calm.
Rubbing his neck, Winston uttered, “She has a point.”
“We’re not supposed to practice or even learn combat with weapons, you know that.” Winston told her.
“I’m telling you, my vision-”
“Your ‘vision’ could have just been a dream, and you said yourself it could’ve been years away.” Doyle remarked.
“It always pays off to be ready for anything, even with the possibility of it not happening,” Garnet argued.
“Ignore Skiler, she is just a nasty git.” Garnet’s “brother” Riley replied, walking up behind them.
Love, Doyle Brooke Lipman 8-3 Short Story
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