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I've had moments of distorted déjà vu throughout my life. However, it may not be the most appropriate moniker. I don't think I've seen what I'm seeing with my own eyes before every time I have this emotion. It's more likely that I'll encounter it again. As if my mind were a camera and I had just hit the record button. Everything fits, and the image is very clear. There will be no retakes now that the camera is rolling.

The statement "my life flashed before my eyes" is a common one. In truth, the term implies absolutely nothing. There is no deeper significance to it. In my mind, it takes place in the few moments before you leave your worn and damaged body and go out into the unknown. I see it as fleeting glimpses, like seconds snatched from a separate roll of thin black plastic, passing before your mental eye. These moments add up to years and years, forming a montage. You might think of each roll of film as a snapshot of your life, a moment captured forever.

And what are these precise instances when I experience déjà vu? It's as if I can predict the precise scene from the movie that will play in my last moments. Those little bits would probably be pleasant recollections for most individuals. Yes, I own a few of them. Those little intervals of happiness. In those little moments of silence, everything stops. Everything negative, everything worrying, disappears at that instant because there is nothing to worry about. There is not a single item that is not precisely how it should be.

But... such times are becoming more rare for me. I haven't done so in a long time. Even yet, I'm getting that déjà vu right now, as I sit on a hard plastic chair at an airport cafe. I was essentially filming the complete stranger in front of me with the camera in my eyes. The camera zeroed in on the lovely curls in her light brown, almost golden hair, and I couldn't tell whether they were the result of nature or the hot iron. Subtle touches of cosmetics, artfully applied, brought out the most in her beautiful face. An uneducated observer may not even notice it.

Her outfits gave off an air of sophistication and exclusivity; they were high-end and well curated. Tennis skirt with pleats, white tank top, and a pink cardigan. It was unlike any attire I'd ever seen on someone I considered a peer. She had on a silver necklace with a heart-shaped diamond that dangled down onto her porcelain complexion. Her pastel blue eyes seemed to melt into the background. She was looking back at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. I had no doubt that she was going through comparable thoughts and emotions as mine.

There was a dull sensation of perplexity because, despite the fact that the girl in front of me was dressed in details that couldn't be more different from those she was perceiving in me, I still saw myself in her. I couldn't put my finger on why her face seemed so much like the one in the mirror, but I had to admit that there was a striking similarity. Perhaps it was the way her cheekbones slanted upward into her face, or the form of her nose.

My hair was so dark it bordered on being black, so that couldn't have been the problem. My own eyes were a tricolor of blue, green, and brown, so that couldn't have been it. Mine had a somewhat deeper shade, so it wasn't our skin. But the results of that ridiculously expensive DNA test proved without a reasonable doubt that we were really sisters.

I tore my gaze away from her and said, "This is fucking weird." I had no idea how long we had been looking at one other in silence. But it had gone on for so long that I started to feel uncomfortable. At my remarks, she straightened up, and I saw the beginnings of a grin on her face. She laughed, and it was as soft as she seemed.

"It is strange, to say the least. But Daphne, I just had to tell you how thrilled I am to having met you. I couldn't believe it when we received your email. I've always wished I had a sibling...

As a result, "And now you have one." When I tried to say them, nothing came out. Apparently, I didn't share her level of enthusiasm. In my experience, family was a source of nothing but heartbreak. Pain and disillusionment. But it seemed like Daisy was the last of my extended family to me. And I really had nowhere else to turn.

Although my tone was very dreary, Daisy's cheerful expression and sparkling eyes persisted. To ask, "How was the flight?" When I told her, "It was shitty," my words came out more like a groan. The infant of the mother next to me wouldn't stop crying.

As I spoke, I absentmindedly plucked at the holes in my tattered black pants to distract myself from the abundance of high-end fashion all around me. Two hours was all it took to go from the place I'd called home for the previous eighteen years to Sapphire Cove, but the incessant wailing of the monster sitting next to me made it seem like fifteen.

But it would be a lie to say that was my main concern when I was up in the air. With complete awareness of my destination, my thoughts had been running at maximum speed. A sister I'd just recently discovered and a posh city I was stuck in.

I'm sure the steady tapping of my almost disintegrating sneaker beneath the table conveyed my worry to Daisy. She laughed softly again, brushing away stray ringlets with her free hand. Yes, I've gone through it. A little youngster sat behind me on the plane to Bali last month. The whole twelve hours of our journey, he kicked my seat. To keep me from telling his mum about it, my mom bought me a new pair of shoes.

When I realized she was making ostensibly causal allusions to money, I raised an eyebrow. She didn't seem conceited or boastful when she mentioned them. Instead, she casually mentioned places like Bali and purchases like she had just bought a pair of shoes. And I suppose they were, given the air of opulence that emanated from her.

It didn't come as a total surprise to me. I researched the city she had named when she offered me to visit with her family. Crystal Cove. Everything I needed to know was on the first page of Google results. A little coastal village with stunning scenery and rocky coastlines that draw visitors from all around the globe. However, its neighborhoods were gated and its schools were exclusive. It was very evident that a significant financial investment was required for residency.

And I certainly didn't seem to have any from the stares on the faces of those who passed Daisy and me. Daisy, feeling uncomfortable with the growing stillness that I had allowed, cleared her throat softly. "Have you done a lot of traveling?" When I stared at her again, I felt a little pit in my stomach and my eyebrows raised. It may have been shame, envy, or frustration; I couldn't tell.

Because it was obvious that, just as I had no fucking clue of the sort of life my sister had led, she had similarly no fucking concept of the kind of life I had led. And it wasn't one that required going somewhere.

She appeared to pick up on the shade of ambiguity in my single word, "nope," which I used to respond to her question. Before today, I had never set foot on an airplane.

"Oh," she said with a grin, nodding her head. She inhaled deeply, her attention briefly leaving her hands. Seeing her uneasiness triggered a wave of sympathy in me. She made an effort. It was clear that she was thrilled, as she put it, to finally meet me.

And I couldn't dispute the value of her assistance. She welcomed me into her home, and her parents did as well. And assist me. I really could have used any assistance I could receive. I continued, "Tell me about yourself," and I could see the interest return to her eyes.

She answered, "Well," fast. "I finished college recently. Her mother had informed her, "Your senior year was last year, but..." she hesitated, biting her lip slightly. I recognized her blunder. I had to put off finishing school so that I could focus on finding gainful employment. I have to get a job so I can pay my rent. And being a high school dropout was bad, but being homeless was even worse.

"I have a boyfriend," she said, collecting herself. He started college the year before I did since he's a year older than me. Erik is his given name. Three years have passed since we first met. A phony grin spread over my face as I said, "Oh," followed by "wow. That's quite some time. Is he planning on being here during the summer?

She sighed and said, "No," and I could detect an underlying note of anguish in her voice. "He'll be remaining up there for a while, but he'll be making trips down. How about a boyfriend? "Nope," I said, relying on a single word once again.

She exclaimed with apparent glee, "Ooh," at the prospect of my being unattached. I'm going to have to set you up!" What a very amusing thing. You're so stunning that it won't be difficult at all. You might say Teddy, Michael, Xavier, or even Jalen. In reality, Jalen is... Saying "I'm not really..." I interrupted her, feeling awful for the uneasiness that must have been radiating off of her. "I'm not sure I want to go on a date."

"Oh," she said with another grin, this time at me. That's OK with me. If so, then "Are those guys all your friends?" I was taken aback by how rapidly she rattled them off, so I inquired.

She confirmed, "Yeah," adding, "you'll meet them. All of these men are top notch. However, some of them are athletes, so you know how that kind is," she rolled her eyes at me, seemingly startled that I didn't already know. Neither the jocks nor the cheerleaders were my crowd in high school, which probably comes as no surprise.

Which... I'd put good money on the fact that Daisy was. And the women are wonderful. They're thrilled to finally meet you, she said, trying to keep the conversation going.

Once again, Daisy started to speak, but was interrupted by a sharp ping from her phone. She bent her head and scanned the message on the paper. "My parents are here," she said as she rose to her feet. They can hardly wait to meet you. They only wanted to provide us with some privacy before continuing.

"Since we're long-lost sisters?" As I joined her in standing, I murmured dryly. Daisy returned my grin without catching my cynicism. "That's right. See, they just started pulling in. Daisy indicated a dark grey automobile that had driven up to the kerb outside by pointing through the window. The car's brand didn't shock me since I knew it was worth more than I would ever be able to earn in a lifetime.

And at that instant, I realized why my mental camera had been recording these scenes. It wasn't because seeing my sister again after fifteen years wasn't a bittersweet moment. It wasn't a hushed moment, but then again, nothing else seemed to matter. The reverse was true. Everything seemed to be amplified at once. My mind was a cacophony of questions, ideas, and memories.

Because it was a confirmation of what I already believed: that luck existed. It's a genetic trait, meaning some individuals have it and others don't. When your DNA is so identical, the distinctions between you are still small. Laughter and golden memories illuminate the world for some individuals from birth. And, you know, some individuals just have to be born into darkness and suffering.

People may either be born as a butterfly or a moth.