I haven't told anyone the whole story from beginning to end, so you'll have to bear with me if I am not able to present a cohesive structure to you. Like Pulp Fiction, this may jag around a bit, but maybe between us we can let it settle into place - like shaking flour, it will all even out in the cup.
So, with that cliche writer's disclaimer aside (just like when you step into a home the hostess has to say, "forgive the mess" even if the house is nice, or the artist who keeps saying the piece isn't 'finished.) I shall try to paint the necessary description so that you can understand what it was like to be going through this drama. So here it goes:
Picture this: a day like any other Fall day. The ordinary suburb was set to the pace of the earlier setting sun. School was in session. Campaigning was in full swing. Everyone was distracted and it was fine - it was the hum of the life of 'nice place to raise kids'.
Three identical triplets, boys, go out into the forest by the house and play. They often did. It was nearby and they took their walkie talkies with them to play. They played fort and indians and Man vs. Wild. They played war and they stomped around an imaginary fire. They had little codes they'd signal each other with (mudras) and it just added to the mystique of being around them. They shared one mind and yet, were quite different, each one. Though identical, each face would glow with its own unique energy.
