I have seen many things in life. But this? This is beyond unbelievable. Surely I would’ve known if I had an identical twin. But I am the only child and the only manager in this building. No one should be allowed to sit in my desk, doing my work, imitating my style and borrowing my face. That woman right there? Not me. But when I look at her, it’s like I’m staring at a mirror. Staring at myself…

I launched forward angrily past my colleagues and stopped right before my workspace, where the imposter me focused on her work like it was her job.

“Who on earth are you?!” I ask in bewilderment and wait for her to respond. To stop typing. To look up. But she doesn’t, which makes me angrier.

“Why do you look exactly like me?” I ask but once again she does not respond. Before I get the chance to say anything else, one of my colleagues walk by. But they don’t just walk around me. They walk through me.

I feel paralyzed, like I can’t move, and memories hit me hard all at once. I see myself getting into the car and slamming the door, angry at my husband for his betrayal. Blinded by work I had not noticed him acting differently, but now with that mistress in our house, I don’t think twice before I slam onto the brakes. The car moves fast, and I want to leave the place as soon as possible. But tears suddenly blind my eyes, and for a long moment all I think about is the eight years of marriage torn apart by another woman. Or no, torn apart by him. How could he?

By the time I realize I no longer see where I’m going, it’s too late.

My car slams into the light post, sending my head hard against the wheel and knocking me out. When I awake all I see are my bloody hands and all I feel is the tearing pain in my body. My shoulders, my back, my head, my heart.

Strangely enough, I have the strength to push out the door and climb out. Even stranger, though - the crowd that formed around me are still peeking into the car. A man beside me is frantically talking into his phone, calling the emergencies over.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’m not really hurt. It’s just my head.”

“54th highway, we need you right now!” The man continued, ignoring me. “I think she’s dead!”

My world stops and I look at my beaten car.

I am still inside.

My bloody body is motionless at the front seat, my head resting against the stirring wheel.

I look around. No one sees me. No one hears me. No one feels me. Am I really dead?

“You’re not,” a voice says. “Not yet. Do as we say, and you’ll get a second chance. As for now…”

Suddenly I am knocked out of consciousness and am standing in the office right now. People pass through me and speak to my copycat for advice. I stare at her.

The audacity to sit in my chair with a brave face.

“Do not worry,” the same voice that talked in the highway says. “You’ll get back to her. She’s you’re replacement while you’re gone. We need you elsewhere.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. “Who? Where?”

“You’ll find out,” the voice says. “Soon enough.”

And just like that I lose consciousness all over again, falling to the ground. Everything turns black.

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