The flickering of the television illuminates the dark room. I glumly stare at the crumbs sitting on my chest while somewhere behind me a washer desperately tumbles away. I imagine myself tumbling around helplessly in that machine and glumly sigh, the dog laying at my feet sighs, a door somewhere to my right sighs.

“Ein, don’t you dare get on the bed!”

My dog whines, I look down at her curious face.

“Well, if you are here, then what was …” I look over to my right only to be cut off by a sharp-dressed man, with a weird suitcase, leading a group of people through my bedroom door. The man pauses as the group exits the door, casually flicks on the lights, and enters my living room and proceeds to talk to the group – as if giving a tour. My brain tells me that the man is talking, but I understand nothing. Ein gets up, barks, and promptly runs out the doggy-door leading to the garage. I am busy trying to process what is going on. I notice one in the group waving at me, I take note of them and the rest. None appear intimidating, instead appearing just casually curious at their surroundings like tourists. They are all dressed similarly with strange beeping devices strapped to their backs. I look at the one waving at me, a wave of nausea washes over me.

“Is that me?” I think. Standing next to the maybe-me is a female with a striking resemblance to a girl I had dated in college, it hadn’t worked out and we had gone our separate ways after graduating. She gave a small wave, which was noticed by the sharp-dressed man leading the group. He began talking with the maybe-me and maybe-me’s companion as I got up from the couch and dusted chip dust from my hoodie.

“Me or not, I am invading my home and I will not stand for that” I thought to myself rather confusingly. I stand up, fully intent on getting these strangers out of my house, but as I approach the group, the sharp-dressed man approached me, took a small plug device from the suitcase, and pushed it my direction.

“In ear, for talking.” The sharp-dressed man said to me in broken English, I notice that the maybe-me and maybe-me’s companion smiling and pointing at their ears, small plugs barely noticeably implanted in their ears.

“Well, if they have it, it can’t be that dangerous.” I think to myself and stupidly place the device in my ear. Maybe-me begins to talk and while I still heard the gibberish, I am surprised at being able to understand them. The sharp-dressed man interrupts.

“Here in this side-verse, the populace’s technology has only begun allowing for speech recognition translation through bulky devices such as these,” he holds up a phone, an older flip-phone by the looks of it. A thought enters my brain.

“Is this a tour? And I’m …”

The sharp-dressed man turns to me. “The exhibit seems to still be overwhelmed, perhaps our archives are incorrect about the progress of the passive-earth side-verse.” He clucks his tongue condescendingly.

“Now,” I stammer. “Look here, that’s hardly appropriate …”

Maybe-me points in my direction and elbows their companion. “Oh, look it can talk! The sounds coming from its mouth are quite adorable.”

Their companion replies with a rather distasteful – in my opinion – quip about how cute the sounds from Most-likely-me’s mouth are. I ignore this.

“It? I am an actual person; I have a name - …!” I protest. I notice some of the others in the group start wandering off, touching, and ogling at the contents of my house, I notice one headed into my kitchen. My attention is grabbed by most-likely-me.

“Oh, I think side-verse me is getting a little cranky.”

“Sometimes we all get a little cranky if we’re hungry, correct Robyn?”  

Hearing my name somehow confirms the identity of the familiar stranger in my living room.

Wholly unpleasant most-definitely-me Robyn gives a chuckle to the joke, the sharp-dressed man bends down and pulls a fast-food bag from his suitcase. “Now, while we would undoubtedly make our own food, archives indicate that it is common practice for inhabitants of this side-verse to depend wholly on others to not only make their food but deliver it as well. Food much like this. The tour guide tosses the bag in my direction which, to my chagrin and the admiration of the crowd, I catch mid-air. The thought that the bag smells like dog-treats rather than the expected hamburger barely crosses my mind as a crash comes from the kitchen.

“Sorry, this side-verse doppelganger had a similar teapot to you and, well, it’s not worth much of a glance now.”

This hurts, the teapot was an heirloom gift from my mother. Side-verse me seems unfazed.

“Not a worry,” side-verse Robyn shouts, “it ain’t mine.”

I’ve had enough, I feel like I’m just about to break down, lash out at this unwelcome me who has come uninvited and spares no thought that I am them. Side-verses aside, shouldn’t they understand, just a little?

By some fortune, for who I am not sure, the packs they wore began to beep. The tour guide announces time is up and quickly yanks the plug from my ear and chaperones his flock through my bedroom door where they disappear in a garble of discussion and a flash of silent light. And just like that, my other self is gone, and I, now, just another glimpse into the reflection of a single drop of water inside a well of infinitude.