The whole place was gleaming.
It reminded me of a high-end hotel. The floors were polished like mirrors, reflecting the overhead lights. Not a fingerprint on the glass, not a single watermark on the chrome. The air smelled of lemon, sharp and sterile like an operating room, with a faint hint of ozone from the air purifier.
The dirty clothes I'd tossed by the shower last night were gone. In their place, sitting neatly on the edge of the tub, was a stack of laundry. They had been washed, dried, and folded neatly, just like the day I bought them.
Then, the smell of food hit me—warm, buttery, and real.
I followed the scent into the kitchen. Luna stood at the stove, hair in a low ponytail, wearing a white tee and jeans—a near-perfect mirror of my own lazy-day uniform. She was stirring a pot of oatmeal while eggs sizzled in a pan beside it.
"Morning," she said, turning with a perfect curve of a smile. "Breakfast is ready."
On the table sat golden toast, oatmeal, and a steaming mug of black coffee. My stomach growled—a traitorous, animal sound. I looked at the spread, feeling an unbelievable wave of happiness.
"Did I hit the jackpot or what?" I laughed as I sat down. She blushed, ducking her head. "I'll do my best." Under the morning light, her skin was flawless. Like poured porcelain.
We ate together. The eggs were perfect. The oatmeal, smooth and warm.
"Any luck with the job hunt?" I asked. "Sent a few resumes, no word yet." Her voice dipped for a second, but she brightened up quickly. "I'll find something. Worst case, I'll look for a cleaning gig here in the complex."
I looked at her eager, hopeful face and felt a tug of sympathy. "You like kids, right?" She nodded instantly. "I love them."
"An assistant at my kindergarten is on leave. It's only half-days, but you could fill in. I'll talk to the director." Her eyes lit up with pure joy. "Really? You'd do that?" "Sure. I'll take you there with me." "Thank you! Thank you so much."
Being able to help her made me feel genuinely good. It was that simple satisfaction of doing a good deed; I felt I had made the right choice last night.
She stood up to clear the plates. My gaze shifted toward the windowsill, and I froze.
There were two plants sitting there. I remembered clearly that only one had been there yesterday—a succulent I'd kept for a year. Its grey pot had a tiny, distinctive chip on the rim.
Now, sitting right next to it, was a second one. Same species. Same size. Even the tiny chip on the grey pot was in the exact same spot. They looked like twins—or rather, a perfect duplicate.
The soil in the new pot was still damp.
"Do you like it?" Luna was suddenly right beside me, her voice soft. I hadn't heard her move at all. "I thought it looked lonely, so I got it a companion."
She naturally took my plate. Her fingers brushed against my hand—cool and dry as paper. She turned toward the sink, and the sound of running water filled the room.
I stared at the two perfectly symmetrical plants on the windowsill. Despite the happiness I felt, I couldn't help but feel that something was off.