Fi met Faye after they bumped into each other in a car park.
Credit: Jim Pavlidis
Alighting their vehicles to survey the damage, they laughed. Not only were their cars the same make and model, but their clothes and hair were uncannily similar too.
“Snap!” said Faye. They exchanged glances, then numbers, and a week later, met for coffee.
Both were carrying The New Yorker tote bags, both ordered macchiatos. Six weeks later, after a whirlwind romance, Fi ended things.
“But we’re so similar,” said Faye, eyes welling.
“Exactly,” said Fi, “but as I’ve come to discover, I just don’t like myself any more.”
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