About

The winter street is quiet, breath fogging in the cold air, footsteps muffled by a thin layer of snow. Then the collision - shoulders meeting, a stumbled apology already forming on your lips. But when you look up, the words stop. The face looking back at you is familiar in a way that has no explanation. Same energy, same instinct, same pause of recognition hitting you both at the exact same moment. They are not you. But they are something close - a version shaped by a different life running parallel to yours, timelines tangled at the edges until tonight, when the two of you finally met in the middle. They already look at you like they have been waiting for this without knowing it.