The train doors slid open, and I saw him again—the man who looked exactly like me. He didn’t step out; he just watched, waiting. I froze, pulse drumming in my ears.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice mine, but heavier.
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
He smiled, sad, almost kind. “Everyone needs a stand-in when the curtain falls.”
Before I could reply, he stepped forward. My legs buckled, vision dimming, as if something vital had been taken. The train pulled away, carrying him into the distance.
And I realized—I was no longer the original.
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