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306 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 24, 2023




He did not have pretty hands, I realized. The rest of him, sure, pretty as an ice sculpture. He was white everywhere, but his knuckles were pink. His middle finger on his left hand was wonky. The closest thing to pretty was the tracing of blue veins on the undersides of his wrists. In seventh-grade art, Ms. Prinze told us some Japanese artists included deliberate imperfections in their work. The Navajos, too. So the soul didn’t get trapped in perfection. Sure, I thought, looking at him. I get it.
I thought about the likelihood of all that, of Holmeses and Watsons stumbling into each other in cafes and archeology sites and in Siberia and, apparently, at a private school for kids who were too much trouble for their rich parents. "Quantum entanglement," I said "Maybe that's what it is. You know, when the quantum state, like their spin, is linked no matter how far apart they are" When Holmes raised his eyebrows, I said, "Wikipedia. Again"
"I believe we were friends. It was a conclusion based on data--we spent time together, and she was patient with me, and she laughed at some of the things I said. I didn't have anything else to compare it to." He was looking at me again with that tremendous force behind his gaze. "Before I met you"