Quick Fiction: The Double

He was standing there lost in front all of those mirrors that surrounded him in this small space of two square meters. The mirrors were set up in a way where each reflection of him in one is reflected again in the other, forming an endless reflections of the same image, the same person, the same him.

He looked closer, trying to identify each image, each reflection. They all looked back at him, with the same body gesture, the same movement, but in different angles allowed by the tilt of each mirror. In the back of his head, he had a favorite, and that was him at the end, the smallest furthest reflection of them all.

Not sure why, maybe the size made him the cutest, or maybe the distance made him the least imposed, or most lost?

He felt like reaching out to him, pulling him closer, and comforting him, getting him back. He waved his hand to say hi. They all did the same.

Suddenly, and out of no where. Another figure made an appearance. A real one that is not a mirror reflection. This one has a flesh and blood. A body that looks like his, headed with an identical face.

Making the situation worse, something deep inside made him realize that this one is him. He even felt himself appear as the double. For a split second, he felt himself appear, then felt himself in wonder of the other appearance. To put clearly, he became aware of a part of himself that he never realized before, a total separate body.

But why did it appear now? or is it why did I appear now? Both asked themselves.

Who was there originally and who just appeared? The stream of consciousness was at loss. It identified the two to be one. It made the distinction between the two in one second and erased it in the other. It divided and hierarch in one (primary body/secondary body and vise versa) and union in the other.

Left body and right body? would that solve the confusion of the ego? Like a right arm and left arm, a right leg and left leg, a right eye and left one.

“I don’t think so” both figures nodded their heads along with their endless reflections in the mirrors. Both are mobile figures, hard to distinguish between right and left.

“What about primary and secondary?” The ego trying to negotiate between himself and his two parts, himself and his other self.

There can’t be a primary and secondary. They both know it. They looked at each other. Feeling sad, they embraced.

Suddenly, one of them vanished, the other felt at loss. He sat down, with half of an identity, and countless reflections looking at him.

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