Audio podcast 7 minutes

Adam heard the voice before he saw the face.

“Do I know you?”

It came from behind him—soft, almost polite, but with a strange echo to it, as if the words had been spoken in a hallway much longer than the grocery aisle he stood in. The sound wrapped around him like a cool breeze on a warm day, drawing his attention and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He scanned the shelves, filled with brightly colored products that seemed oblivious to the peculiar resonance in the air. The hum of chatter from fellow shoppers faded into the background, overshadowed by the disconcerting timbre of the voice that lingered in his mind, leaving him to ponder the origin of those words that seemed so distant yet so close.

Adam turned.

A woman stood there, her cart perfectly still, her hand resting on the handle as though she’d forgotten she was touching it. Her eyes were fixed on him with an intensity that made the fluorescent lights seem suddenly too bright, as if the air around them thickened with unspoken words and emotions, drawing a palpable tension between them. The faint hum of the store felt distant, almost muffled, as she took a step closer, her gaze unwavering and filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern, revealing a depth that hinted at stories untold and burdens unshared, leaving him captivated and somewhat unsettled by the unexpected connection that seemed to hang in the air.

He didn’t recognize her. At least, he didn’t think he did.

But something in her expression—something like recognition mixed with dread—made a cold ripple move across his shoulders, as if an invisible hand had traced a chill down his spine. He felt the weight of her gaze, a blend of understanding and fear, causing his heart to race and his mind to whirl with unspoken questions. Memories rushed back to him, images flickering like shadows, pieces of a puzzle he thought were long buried. What did she see in him that sparked such a reaction? The air between them grew tense, charged with the unnameable truth that lingered just below the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

“I’m… not sure,” he said.

She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and measured. Not enough to be rude, but just enough that he could see her pupils widen, as if she were adjusting to a darker room than the one they were in, the dim light casting intriguing shadows across her face. The air between them thickened, charged with an unspoken tension that seemed to hang in the air like a delicate veil, inviting him to step into a world that blurred the lines between proximity and intimacy.

“It’s strange,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the store noise around them. “I saw you and… it was like remembering a dream I never wanted to remember, one that danced just beyond my fingertips, teasing me with fragments of a reality I wished to escape. Your presence pulled me back into that fleeting moment, where shadows of the past intertwined with the light of the present, revealing secrets long buried in the recesses of my mind. It felt both haunting and beautiful, like an echo of a time when everything was simpler yet infinitely complicated.”

Adam forced a smile. “Well, that’s a new one.”

But she didn’t smile back, instead, her expression remained unchanged, as if a cloud had passed over her face, casting a shadow on their moment. This unexpected reaction pierced through the air, thick with tension, leaving him questioning what had just transpired between them. Her eyes, usually so bright and inviting, now held an unreadable depth, making him wonder if she was lost in thoughts of her own or perhaps reflecting on something that had caused her to withdraw from the fleeting joy of the encounter.

Instead, she tilted her head, studying him with a kind of sorrow that reflected a deeper understanding of the years they had both lived through. “You look exactly the same,” she said softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Not a day older, yet everything around us has changed in ways I can hardly comprehend. It’s as if time has decided to pause for you, allowing you to remain untouched by the passage of moments that have shaped my own life into something unrecognizable.”

He felt a chill then—not fear, exactly, but the sensation of being observed by something older than the moment.

“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” he said gently.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing as memories flooded back. “No. I remember your face vividly, etched in my mind like an indelible mark. I remember the night—the chill in the air and the tense silence that surrounded us. I remember the door, standing ominously before me, a threshold to uncertain outcomes. Every detail, every emotion of that moment resurfaces with clarity, refusing to be buried under the passage of time.”

“What door?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she were sharing a dangerous secret meant only for my ears. “The one you closed,” she continued, her eyes darting briefly toward the door, ensuring that no one else was listening. There was a weight to her words, laden with memories and unspoken fears, as though the mere mention of it could conjure ghosts from the past that lingered in the shadows of our conversation.

A shiver crawled up his spine. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know her. And yet… something inside him stirred, like a memory trying to surface through deep water.

She blinked, and suddenly her expression softened, as if she’d just woken from a trance. The harsh lines of stress etched across her face melted away, revealing a glimpse of warmth and vulnerability beneath. Her eyes, which had been clouded with uncertainty, now sparkled with a newfound clarity, as if a veil had been lifted to reveal the world in full color. In that fleeting moment, the weight of her worries faded, allowing a gentle smile to grace her lips, inviting a sense of calm that enveloped her like a warm embrace.

“Oh,” she said, stepping back with a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I must have… confused you with someone else. You looked so familiar in that moment, as if I had known you from a time long past, a memory I couldn’t quite place. It’s funny how sometimes we see faces that trigger a sense of déjà vu, isn’t it?”

Her cart wheels squeaked as she pushed it away, the sound echoing in the empty street as the sun began to set, casting long shadows behind her. She didn’t look back, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension as she left the memories of the bustling market behind, determined to move forward with her meager but precious purchases nestled safely inside.

Adam stood there long after she disappeared around the corner, feeling the cold echo of her words settle into him like dust.

You look exactly the same.

The door you closed.

He didn’t know her.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But as he walked toward the checkout, he caught his reflection in the freezer glass—and for a split second, just a flicker—he thought he saw someone standing behind him. The dim lighting of the store flickered slightly, causing shadows to dance around him, and momentarily, he felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine. His heart raced as he turned slightly, half-expecting to find a fellow shopper or perhaps an employee restocking the shelves. Instead, all he saw was the empty aisle stretching out behind him, lined with colorful packages that seemed to taunt him with their normalcy. Doubt crept into his mind as he glanced back at his reflection, half-convinced that he had just imagined it all, yet the nagging feeling of being watched lingered like an unwelcome guest.

Someone who looked exactly like him.

And then the reflection blinked… a moment before he did.