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How we know we’re us?

Well, haven’t you wondered? Like, late at night, when you can’t sleep and your brain forces unpleasant memories onto you of awkward conversations and all sorts of regrets, and you wonder if someone’s there but no one’s there, and in the end it’s just you, but maybe it’s not or maybe it is or maybe…

Are you okay?

No one else is here… What do we do?

I’ll admit. It does spook me. Even on a boiling day like today, no one is here. The park is uncomfortably barren. And that’s not just people—I haven’t seen one bird fly by recently.

Odd… why does it have to be so odd?

It’s odd alright. You’re safe to sit at the centre of an intersection, and you won’t get ran over. Then, at night, you can safely stroll the streets. Odd? Yeah. This stuff is real odd.

How can something be real odd? Real and odd… they’re opposites, right?

Doesn’t feel natural, does it?

Hey, do you feel like we’ve had this conversation before?

…Yeah.

Can you remember yesterday?

We were in the apartment.

I don’t remember that.

Are we going to be alright—do you think?

Hey.

Yeah?

Are we alone?

I mean, do you see anyone around?

How alone are we?

We could leave town to see.

No. I don’t want an answer.

Then why ask?

Hey.

Yeah?

Are we really alone?

I’m not sure.

…Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday?

Did we?

Hey.

Hey.

Say something.

You’re there aren’t you?