.
Then the phone went dead.
She looked around her apartment. What was going on? She ran to him, still hoping it was a terrible prank20. Nope. This was blood on her floor. And this was one dead man. Her man. Well, her ex-man. When she was about to check his pulse, just in case, she heard someone running in the corridor outside her door. She jumped up.
***
The morning street felt strange. How can these people go about their business when he is lying dead on the floor up there in their apartment? Where is she supposed to go now?21 Somehow, calling the police did not seem like a clever idea. But why? She did not do anything wrong. She just had a cup of coffee and her soon-to-be-proposing boyfriend was murdered just after breaking up with her. Should she call the police after all22? Perhaps, she should.
She looked for her phone, but … Oh no! She left it on the kitchen table. All her contacts. She doesn’t remember any numbers by heart. Who does? Are there still payphones on the streets these days? Who should she call even if she finds one?
“Don’t scream,” the same cool voice from the call, but … behind her.
She stopped in disbelief23.
“Keep walking,” a slight push on the back.
She complied24. A decision triggered25 by her survival mechanism26 rather than her brain.
“Who are you?” she asked quietly.
“In a minute,” the stranger said. “Turn right here.” another slight push on the back.
They walked in a quiet alley. A few moms with baby strollers27 and senior citizens sitting on benches.
“Here’s good,” the stranger said when they reached an empty bench. “Sit down.”
“May I turn?” she asked sitting down.
“If you want,” the stranger said.
She did.
Perhaps, it is not a good comparison, but what she saw shocked her almost as much as the death of her boyfriend.
***
She was looking at herself. Well, she was looking at a young woman who looked exactly like her, as if they were identical twins in different outfits.
“Yes, I know,” the stranger said. “It took quite a bit of time for me to understand this.28”
“Are you …?” she began.
“You?” the stranger guessed. “Yes. I am you.”
“From the future?” the only guess she could venture29.
“Not really,” the other she said. “I’m your other copy.”
“My other copy?”
“Yes. Some of us come with a back-up copy, but they never tell us that,” the other she said as if it was