I stopped to help a woman who was dy//ing on the side of the road and lost my job because I arrived late

Eleanor walking from her home.

Eleanor at the bakery.

And one photograph that made my stomach turn.

It showed me kneeling beside Eleanor on Route 18.

Taken from across the road.

Someone had been watching us the entire time.

Daniel stared at the photograph longer than anyone else.

Then he picked it up using the edge of a folder.

“This wasn’t printed today.”

Claire shook her head.

“I found it six days ago.”

I stared at her.

“That’s impossible.”

Claire looked equally confused.

“What do you mean?”

“That happened this morning.”

She went pale.

Daniel examined the image again.

Then suddenly held it closer.

“Christopher.”

“What?”

“Look at your coat.”

I looked.

The man kneeling beside Eleanor looked like me.

Same height.

Same dark hair.

Same charcoal coat.

But I wasn’t wearing that coat today.

Mine had a small rip near the right cuff.