Creative Writing, The Fine Line

Two Of Me

I stood there feeling a little embarrassed. I raised my hand for the bus and then I retracted it; it was a 76 and I had just gotten off a 76. I apologised to the driver with a nod of the head and I stepped back. He stopped anyway. I looked up and saw everyone looking at me – funny.
The doors down stairs opened and I was looking at me too. I watched myself get off the bus. I analysed me. Everything I would do I did. I said “thank yew” in a Bristolian accent as I stepped off the bus. Then I whispered to my self ‘what on earth did you do that for? You’re from London!’
Then I secretly laughed at the woman who tripped for three whole steps. I laughed too.

I looked more closely at myself and realised I was looking at me. I was over there seeing me from over here. Had I died? Surely I would see a limp body hanging off the bus if I had died.
A little boy jumped off the bus behind me in his school uniform and grabbed my hand. He looked up at me and we skipped off into the distance.

To be honest had I not been frozen in shock I would have followed myself and the little boy. Where were we going? Who was the boy? And who was the third figure I saw us greet and leave with us in the distance? The little boy looked a little like me and a lot like my best friend. He was chuckling like him too as he jumped off the bus. Although I didn’t find it funny.

It was a sort of surreal real dream. I continued my life after that. I never saw them around town again. At least not until I picked up my son from school and took him to meet his father at work one afternoon.
*
I get off the 76 and say ‘thank yew’ and then scold myself a little for saying it like that. I can’t believe I still do it. And I still find myself laughing at the little misfortunes of other people.

I see a woman laughing too. I think to myself she’s bad minded so I stop laughing. She looks like an older version of myself; maybe it’s because we are the only two laughing. She’s staring at me as though I had been a close relative of hers once.

I look into the glass window of the flower shop and see my reflection. Our reflection. This moment I feel as though I had seen it before.

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