Member-only story
Doppelganger
[250 Word Microfiction]
Keith lowered his lips to his drink and turned to avoid the gaze of a vile man making a scene on the other side of the bar. He’d just texted his wife that he’d be late, lying that he’d been held up at work, when the shocking recognition went through him. That guy was supposed to be dead. He’d worked so hard to ensure it.
The man’s soaked shirt collar was limp and flat, pulling open as he leaned in close to talk to a woman at a nearby table. She recoiled and he became loud. Keith watched him try several empty beer bottles, slam them on the table, and signal for the waiter.
“Another,” Keith said to the bartender.
“Nine dollars,” she said.
“For a drink with no booze in it?” he chided, keeping a clandestine eye in the mirror behind the bar, to watch the man in disgust.
“Maybe a bar isn’t the right place for you,” the bartender said.
Keith glimpsed himself in the mirror, the sweat on his forehead, the disheveled look of his clothes, his own flat collar. He finished his soda with lime and prayed, eyes closed, that the man would disappear forever.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. He placed a ten dollar bill on the bar. On his way home he dialed his sponsor. He didn’t have to look. He knew that the ghastly version of himself had gotten up from the table to follow him out. The man would always be there.
