One of the guys at the campus film counter gave me the weirdest look when I told another employee under which name to find the prints I was picking up. He left me in suspense, swiveling pensively around in his stool for a few moments as the girl perused the files.
"I know an Emily Snow," he finally said, mystified. "But...it's not you."
This instance reminded me of other times this has happened—
A Hogi Yogi cashier: "But she lives in Virginia."
A high school substitute teacher: "I think you both just have one of those faces, too."
Online, written into a song.
In a children's book series (the illustration is also a little uncanny.)
And there's always at least one at family reunions, I swear.
Uniqueness is inevitably lost on me.