Ville leaned back in his chair. His hands were cold and clammy. He wiped them off on his pants and noticed that he was faintly trembling. He was about to criticize himself for this reaction but it was promptly shot down by sense: who else on the planet has had to suffer such unusual disquiet? Probably someone, at least, but that didn't nullify his right to be shaken. Not many can say that, by chance, they found a stranger who was an opposite sex version of themselves in looks and personality with the same last name and the same birthday. What an experience.

Furthermore, this absurdity may have been doubly hard on him due to his personality and situation, which made him unable to cease thinking about the matter from the day it began. Letting it be was not an option and each time he thought he came to a resolution (which he did several times and the answer was always to take the risk and connect with the "impersonator"), he would question his conclusions again despite any reassurance he had received from the stranger's end. So, for two weeks, his every waking moment had been filled with deliberations about what to do, if he should reveal himself, if this was a threatening situation or not, and all of it was stained with an irrational instinct, which at times felt like it was coming from outside himself, that he and the stranger were connected. Now that he had finally seen her picture, it was undoubtedly true that there was some sort of link between them. The next order of business was to deduce the nature of the link. Their shared surname and similar forenames hinted that the link was familial, hereditary.

He glanced back up at his computer monitor. DChat was still open. He saw again his tasteless "jokes," about how Vilja was attractive and how he "looks good as a woman." The unfortunate reality about the former statement was, at the time, it was the truth. Being a man was a burden sometimes, his biology forced him to assess the attractiveness of every woman he came across. But, now that he was aware of their common name, he no longer thought Vilja was attractive. It was one thing when he believed her to be a chance doppelgänger; if she was truly related to him, it'd be wrong and disgusting to entertain those thoughts. He wondered if he should apologize to Vilja, she did react strongly to his comments... "...Nah," he dismissed it. He felt he hadn't done anything wrong.

He uncrossed his legs and stood up from the chair. His body urged him to stretch and he did, reaching his fists to the ceiling. It was a good, long stretch. He looked at his computer again and reluctance slithered over the keyboard. "That's enough DChat, enough computer, for today," he thought, and he turned off his PC. He was still faintly trembling. He paused to take some steady deep breaths while staring blankly at his desk. His brief meditation was interrupted by a pile of paper scraps next to his PC. The pile contained days of scrawlings of his circular, internal arguments about the impersonator, now Vilja, situation. He'd have to shred all of those. Later. He went to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

The crisp water felt good over his tired eyes. He dully observed himself in the mirror. A small water droplet formed on his nose. He was utterly exhausted. The thin film of water on his face accentuated his exhausted look, making it seem as if he had been sweating profusely. He was glad it was Friday, he would be able to rest over the weekend.

He thought about what to do now. Normally, he could have gone for a light open-faced sandwich at this hour, but his stomach protested the idea. "I should sauna, shower, and just go to bed," he thought. He turned away from the mirror and something about this moment prompted a recollection. A memory dimly struggled to the forefront of his mind. A memory of a dream in which he was looking into a mirror and the face reflected back at him was Vilja's. He had been having this dream, on and off, for years. "No," he thought, and promptly repressed the memory. He hadn't the capability to process that now.

---


By Adaline Guerra