Night Owls

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

Clearly, she’d lied. Rather than serve insult at this finger overly-priced Crab-shack, he sighed and moved forward. He wouldn’t shame her for the character flaw. This was a case of insecurity, not menace.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

With a glance, the thing shifted into a second-hand version of him. The twin sported secret insecurities plucked from his brain. The off-center nose, exaggerated and swollen, throbbed as the memory of a fist to the face surfaced. He hated mimes.