Possible Doppelgänger

“Dude, I met you a long time ago,” he approaches.

“oh yeah?” I respond.

“Like 4 years ago…” where was I four years ago…?

I was either in the ICU in Boise or the rehab facility in CO. This already doesn’t track.

“…You came up to our table and bought us all a bunch of shots.”

That really doesn’t sound like me. It tell him so. He looks dejected.

“I was hanging out with a bunch of girls, and you came to our table and was hanging out. You were cool.” This is a poignant memory for him. “You bought us all shots, and then went back and got yourself a drink.”

“Nah, that… doesn’t sound like me.” I don’t mean to kill the vibe, but…

“No?”

“I’m Jack.” We swap names. Doesn’t ring a bell

“Nice to meet you tho,” I try to soften the blow.

“You want a fucking sticker,” I offer in condolence.

“Dude! I swear. You gave me a sticker last time too.” He’s ecstatic. “What is it, let’s see.” I’m digging around in my side pocket.

“Yes! This is the one! You gave us fucking stickers,” he assures me.

…

“You want a drink,” he circles back, offering.

I’m like third in line, pulling up to a window in the wall. “I can manage it,” I tell him.

“Just trying to spread the love,” he says, dejected. “Ya know, return the favor.”