Ethan had planned for a quiet Friday night. Work had been long, his fridge was empty, and he wasn’t in the mood to cook. He opened his food app and, without much thought, ordered a large pepperoni pizza from the place down the street.
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
He grabbed his wallet, walked to the door, and swung it open.
Then froze.
The delivery man holding the pizza box… looked exactly like him.
Same dark hair. Same crooked smile. Same mole on the jawline. Even the same small scar near the eyebrow Ethan had gotten playing soccer as a kid.
It was like staring into a mirror that had stepped out of its frame.
“Pizza for Ethan?” the driver asked, his voice identical down to the rhythm of speech.
Ethan’s throat went dry. “That’s… me.”
The man tilted his head, mirroring Ethan’s confusion. “No, that’s me.”
For a few seconds, the world seemed to hang still. Ethan’s mind scrambled — a prank? A twin he never knew about? A hallucination? But the man’s presence was too real. Too solid.
Trying to break the silence, Ethan reached for the pizza box. Their hands brushed. Cold ran through him, like static.
The delivery man leaned closer, his eyes sharp now, no longer friendly. In a whisper Ethan could barely hear, he said:
“Don’t let them know you saw me.”
Before Ethan could speak, the man turned, walked briskly down the driveway, and vanished into the shadows without asking for payment.
Heart pounding, Ethan shut the door. He set the box on the counter with trembling hands.
When he lifted the lid, he gasped. On top of the pizza was a folded piece of paper.
He unfolded it slowly.
The handwriting was his. Identical.
It read:
“You’ve got 24 hours. Use them.”
The pizza grew cold on the counter as Ethan sat staring at the note, the ticking of the kitchen clock suddenly unbearably loud.
