I hum to myself, desperate to fill the silence. I thought a walk would make it easier to clear my head, but all it seems to do is leave me nothing to distract myself with. Everything out here can be a source for anxiety. The absence of the constant blabbering of the cicadas, the way the birds seemed to have flown from the trees the second I went near them. My fists are curled tightly. God, I feel so angry. But about what?

Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, concrete slapping my toes, I glance at the person gliding past me. She’s rather generic looking, with straight brown hair that falls past her shoulders and glasses perched on her nose. The flicker of a memory lights in my mind. I convince myself that she just has one of those faces, because I could’ve sworn I’d never seen this woman in my life, despite the recognition that churns in my stomach. She looks over at me passingly and keeps walking. Three steps later she swivels around.

“Clara?!” She sounds scared, confused. How does she know my name? I grip the pepper spray I keep in my pocket. It’s nearly empty, but she doesn’t know that.

“Who are you?” I ask politely, feigning innocence. Her face is pale, and her eyes have gone wild.

“But you’re… But…” She stumbles backwards and collapses on the ground, curling into a ball, sobbing. Panic and sympathy rush through me.

“Are you alright?” She flinches from my touch. Who had she confused me with? She buries her tear streaked face in her hands, mumbling like a mad woman.

“It can’t be, it’s not possible.” I want to reach for my phone, call 911, but something is stopping me. Actually, when was the last time I used my phone?

“I don’t think I understand, can you tell me what’s wrong?” She looks up at me in disbelief.

“It’s you Clara, you’re dead!”