Kairosclerosis

She has the same viridian hair I have, but longer. Same shining syrup eyes as mine. She looks like…me.
“Who are you?”, I demand. At this, she smiles. A familiar smile. A smile someone smiles when they finally realize they are happy. A kairosclerosis smile. But that isn’t the only familiar thing about it. It is also a smile I’ve seen thousands of times reflected on my mirror. My smile.
“I’m you”, she finally said. She shrugs “just a little bit into the future though”.

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