Mirror Image

Chapter 4

John removed the VR headset and rubbed his temples, blinking as the world around him came back into focus. The quiet hum of his apartment was a sharp contrast to the vibrant, immersive reality he had just left behind. Stretching his arms above his head, he let out a deep sigh and stood up.

His movements, however, were unconsciously different. As he walked toward the kitchen, his hips swayed in a smooth, rhythmic motion, his arms swinging from the elbows down rather than from his shoulders. The change was subtle yet distinct—his gait now carried a certain poise, almost as if he were still inhabiting the graceful female avatar from the game.

Reaching the kitchen, John opened the fridge and paused. His fingers lingered on the cool metal handle as he scanned the shelves. With a small nod to himself, he reached for bread, cheese, and deli meat. His movements were unusually precise, almost practiced. As he prepared a sandwich, he seemed to handle everything with an attention to detail that was uncharacteristic of his typically casual, somewhat haphazard manner.

Once his meal was ready, John sat at the small dining table. Without a second thought, he crossed one leg over the other, his posture upright and composed. He took a bite of the sandwich, chewing delicately as his hand rested lightly on the table, his fingers drumming absentmindedly in a rhythmic pattern.

Emma entered the kitchen moments later, phone in hand, and glanced at John as she walked to the fridge. At first, she didn't notice anything unusual, but as she reached for a bottle of water, her gaze lingered on him.

There was something different.

John's posture was impeccable—legs crossed, back straight, his head tilted slightly as he scrolled through his phone between small, deliberate bites of his sandwich. Even the way he held the sandwich struck her as odd. It wasn't the usual hurried, almost ravenous manner she'd seen countless times before. He wasn't wolfing it down or letting crumbs scatter everywhere. Instead, he ate with an elegance that felt... foreign.

Emma grabbed her water and sat down across from him, watching him as discreetly as she could. The differences were subtle but undeniable. He didn't slouch like he usually did after hours of gaming. His movements seemed deliberate, fluid, almost graceful.

"So," she began, breaking the silence, "how was it?"

John looked up from his phone, his brow furrowing slightly. "How was what?"

"The game," Emma clarified, gesturing toward the VR headset he had left on the counter.

"Oh, right." He set his phone down and shrugged. "It was... intense. Four years in there felt so real. It's kind of hard to describe."

"Sounds like it really got to you," Emma said, unscrewing the cap on her water bottle.

"Yeah, it's weird. Like, you don't just play the game—you live it," he replied, taking another small bite of his sandwich.

Emma nodded, her curiosity growing as she observed him. His voice carried a certain softness she wasn't used to, as though he were more thoughtful, more deliberate with his words.

"What kind of character did you make?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

John hesitated, his gaze flickering toward the counter where the VR headset sat. "Just someone different. The game's all about stepping into someone else's shoes, you know? It's supposed to teach you empathy or whatever."

Emma raised an eyebrow but said nothing, sipping her water. She could tell he was being deliberately vague, but she didn't push the subject. Instead, she studied him silently, noting every subtle change. The way he held himself, the precise way he gestured, even the delicate way he crossed his legs—it was like he'd brought something back from the virtual world, a residual imprint of the character he had played.

John finished his sandwich and stood up, stretching. Again, his movements caught Emma's attention. There was a fluidity to the way he moved, a kind of unconscious grace that was wholly unlike him. As he walked toward the sink to rinse his plate, his hips swayed slightly, and his arms swung in that peculiar way she couldn't quite place.

Emma's mind raced. The differences weren't drastic enough to be obvious, but for someone who knew John as well as she did, they were glaring. She wondered what could be the cause of this change, but for some reason, she decided not to ask.

"Are you going to play again tomorrow?" she asked casually, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table.

"Not sure," John replied, placing his plate in the drying rack. "It's... a lot to take in. Maybe after I've had some time to think about it."

Emma nodded, watching as he left the kitchen. She noticed that even his steps seemed quieter, more measured.

Alone at the table, Emma tapped her fingers against her water bottle, deep in thought. Something had changed in John, and it wasn't just his movements. There was a subtle shift in his demeanor, a newfound composure that hadn't been there before.