Myself (Rocky V)

I got off at Charlie’s station and took another look around. The sun was now high in the sky. In an unexpected turn of events, though, the sky seemed about to be overtaken by some heavy-looking clouds. I picked up my pace as I walked towards Charlie’s. About half a block away from his house, I felt a drop. I sprinted the rest of the way there, and arrived at his doorstep mostly dry. I rang the bell.

Charlie answered the door, as extroverted and boisterous as ever. “Bern-ey,” he said after he opened the door. “What the hoot are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?”

I stepped inside. “I didn’t know I’d be here. I’ve got something to talk to you about. Something serious.” Charlie raised his eyebrows. “First, when’s the last time I talked to you?”

“On Tuesday, when you called to tell me about a tree that looked like Jeff Goldblum.”

“I remember that tree. What time is it?”

“Eleven fifty eight. Is something wrong? You look like you should sit down.”

We walked into another room where I collapsed into a chair. “There’s another me,” I said.

“You saw someone else wearing your patent lime sweatshirt?”

I thought for a moment. When I came barging into my room, I was not wearing that sweatshirt. That was a bit weird. No one, let alone me, had really ever seen me out of that sweatshirt.

“Seriously,” I said, “another me. The person is me. Me in every single way.”

“Yeah? What’s her name?”

As I glared at the ever-hilarious Charlie, we heard a knock at the door. I heard him great his visitor. “Bernie? What the HELL are you doing here?” I immediately saw Charlie rush back into the room with a drenched me in tow. “Sit!” Charlie ordered, pointing at an empty chair. He was no longer amused. “Which one of you is the real you?”

I shared a glance with myself and spoke up. “I think we both are.