Although, he says, a little side-smile creeping up, I wouldn’t mind getting to know Akemi a bit more intimately, if you know what I mean.

Of course I know what he means, he’s just confirmed what I’ve known ever since I clapped eyes on him through my viewfinder. And here he is, right in front of me: the perfect guy who shagged Akemi better than I could.

And I am jealous, and afraid. The polished version of me, Sean 2.0, already making moves.

This is my life, I say.

It sure is, he says.

F

IFTY

I pick up my camera from the bedside table.

I lie down on my bed and play with the focus ring to help me calm down.

I left Other Me’s flat in a weird way – like, I’d made my point, told him to not get involved in my shit anymore.

But at the same time, he didn’t really say he would stop.

He just smiled at me in the way that he does. Made agreeable noises.

Offered me a biscuit.

When I got up to leave, he told me he’d see me later. Patted me on the back.

And now I am fully spooked, because what if he’s lying and he has been talking to Charles and Akemi?

What if he muscles in on the thing me and Akemi have got going on?

What if he’s talking to Charles, giving him great ideas, making himself more valuable to Charles than I am?

There is no way Akemi and Charles wouldn’t realize that there are two of us, identical in looks but completely different in behaviour.

No way.

That one of us is more competent, more funny, more handsome, more charming, more clever and more rewarding to be around.

Let’s face it, Akemi would never look at me the same again. She would never forgive me. For lying to her, for pretending to be someone else, for tricking her into having sex with me.

I can see now – the whole thing with Akemi was a terrible idea. And I’m not altogether sure I can take that kind of rejection.

Again.

And because Sean 2.0 is better than me in every way, that leaves me…

Nowhere.

With nothing.

No home. No money. Alone in not one, but two countries.

Sometimes, two of something is really not better than one.

I get off the bed, walk to the window and look out – barely perceptible clouds in the night sky drifting above the blanket of lights in the city below.

I fire off a quick shot of the scene, the light in my room just bright enough so my reflection makes it more of a yellow-tinted self-portrait than a landscape.

Out there, probably in that building, is Other Me.

Out there, he’s probably thinking about how he can take me out of the equation, get in on this good, but fragile thing I’ve somehow managed to build for myself.

I mean, why wouldn’t he?

In here, I’m thinking, Fuck that.

I remember Charles saying something to me one time.

Victorious warriors win first, and then they go to war.

I sling my camera round my neck, and head off outside.

F

IFTY

-O

NE

I knock on the door, one—

It swings open inward, and Other Me is already walking down the hallway to the living room.

He says, Hey man, come in.

I close the door behind me, and follow him.

In the living room, he is sitting on the sofa, quiet and calm, like he’s waiting for something inevitable.

He says, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. What a pleasure.

I sit down next to him, facing him, and I say, To be honest, I didn’t either.

I decide to just come out with it.

Who the fuck are you?