T3 (The "Twin" Part 3) (6S)

My hands are nearly raw from wringing them when he walks into the room. He’s still about thirty feet away but I can see that he looks like me walking toward myself in the mirror, where I’m a year older sporting an unkempt beard and a government-issued orange jumpsuit. We make haste to sit, as there is much to say, angry words looming just under the surface, a pair of chipped teeth nearly escapes my notice as he begins to speak. “I cannot believe you married her, after all this time I’ve spent in here, you go and marry her!” I’m thunderstruck, even with a practiced speech sitting on the tip of my tongue, caught of guard by his abruptness, I’m only able to manage a quiet I’m sorry. Suddenly he’s pulled out of his seat and led away by a guard for raising his voice, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I see my three-year-old son as he darts away from the play area and latches on to my brother's leg.