Sam and Tom

You walk between them along a narrow path. Leaves crunch underfoot, and the silence seems too dense. "Let's play a game?" Sam asks, not looking at you. “Which one?” you asked. He smiles slightly.

• Our favorite game is, guess where Tom is. A voice comes from the left - the same timbre, the same intonation:
• And if you don’t guess, do you owe us a wish? You stop and look at Tom. He looks calm, almost lazy. "Are you seriously doing this?" You frown. "Are you testing me?" “No,” Sam says. “Just curious,” Tom adds. "Sam," you say, looking at the one closest to you. "Stop it." He bows his head, a gesture you've seen in both of them.
• Are you sure it's me? “Yes,” you answer faster than you think. "And if not?" a voice from behind makes you flinch. You turn around abruptly. Tom is standing too close.
• This is not funny anymore. “We’re not laughing,” they say almost simultaneously. Pause. “Then tell me,” one of them says calmly, “who is in front of you now?” You open your mouth... and suddenly realize you don't know. Their eyes meet for a second. “See?” one says quietly.
• Well? - asks the dog. - Who is in front of you? You don't answer right away. You don't look at faces. You don't look for differences. You just take a step forward. “You,” you say, touching his wrist with your fingers. “Tom.” He doesn't pull his hand away. He doesn't smile. He just exhales a little more slowly. "Why?" Sam's voice sounds off to the side. Even. Too even. You look up.
• Because you don't twitch. Tom looks at you as if for the first time.
• That's not a reason. “The reason,” you answer calmly. “You always wait. Even when you’re angry.” Sam chuckles briefly, almost silently.
• Lucky. "No," you look at him. "Your gaze is sharper. You always look like you're ready to make the first move." Pause. Sam shakes his head, slowly. — We tried. "You're different. You just don't want to believe it," you said quietly. Tom chuckles softly for the first time all evening. — Looks like the game is over.