25: Meet You

You meet you outside a diner. You dislike how you’re dressed, in faded jeans and button-down shirt, like you’re proving something. Your friend insisted you meet. It’s eerie, she said. But you don’t see the resemblance. “What now?” you ask. “Shall we have coffee?” you reply. Shall? Why are you putting on airs? Over coffee it comes out you’re both programmers, both play racquetball, both strum the guitar when you’re alone. Each time you reveal something, you respond with astonishment. You want to reach over and slap yourself. You are more than the sum of these details, the fidgety frog before you.