She was silent for days. Each day, one year of atonement for having believed in him. After the first hours passed, another figure emerged slowly from her. Same hair, same face, same hands. However, there was something off, a heaviness that wasn’t natural… as if a gram of her actually weighted two; as if, instead of blood, there was oil running through her veins.

The newly created impostor straightened her back and went on to do her business. If she’d had a brain capable of real thoughts, she would have realized nobody noticed her unreal nature.everyone remained unaware of the fact that she was just a temporary copy.

She woke up every day, showered, got dressed. Got on the tram, hello, thank you, went to work, a smile on her lips, her hands typing.

The original stayed at home, staring at nothing. No electricity on her brain; it was her heart the one that was thinking now. Not even all the energy of the world would have been enough to understand him, but she didn’t know that, and so she stayed there, quiet, unmoving, feeling, feeling, kneeling, for five days and five nights. Or, five lives and five deaths.

Cristina N.

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