"Are we the real ones who live in Upside Down, or are they?"
I stop abruptly, nearly bumping into the man who's asked the question. An owner of a few weeks stubble, bad teeth and shabby clothes, he's not the kind of guy I'd fancy encountering, not even on a safe, sunlit, busy street like this one.
"Excuse me?"
"I figured," he says, "you look like one learnt lady, glasses and all. You'd know."
"Know what?" I say, wondering why of all the pedestrians it had to be me getting stuck with some urban madman.
"Who're the real ones?" He nods down. "Us or them?"
I follow his gaze down to the puddle on the asphalt that reflects the sky, the trees, the man's puffy face and my impatient one.
"It's a reflection," I say. "We're real. It's just a puddle."
"Some puddles are just puddles, but some," he says, drawing a square in the air with both hands, "are... windows."
"This one's a puddle," I say firmly. "The first type."
"Then why does he laugh at me? Why does he take my things and never returns?"
Startled, I check his reflection, which, of course, looks exactly like he does.
"What things?"
Before I can as much as gasp, he grabs my hand and slips my wedding ring off my finger. As I'm filling my lungs with air to scream for help, he outstretches his hand over the puddle and drops the ring.
"For heaven's sake," I snap, bending over the puddle, plunging my hand into the cool water. I find the ring immediately, and smile at my rippled reflection with relief.
It's only when fingers colder than water wrap around my wrist that I realize that the reflection doesn't smile back.
YOU ARE READING
One Weird Day
HorrorOne Weird Day is a collection of my short stories. The genres are horror, sci-fi, magic realism, slipstream - in short, the weird stuff! Some of the stories have previously appeared in various publications, others are brand new. I mark this book...
