“Man, those are pretty out of whack,” the glasses-adjuster tells me, squaring off my face with his eyes.
“Yeah,” I say, “a little.”
Last night, I was tickling Graham.
Evan came to his aid quickly, smacking my face hard and sending my specs spinning across the floor.
“Damn it, Evan, get off me,” I screamed, picking up my frames and trying them back on.
The left lens fell halfway onto my cheek.
I guess it pays to have an identical twin.