There's a knock on the door. It takes me completely by surprise because nobody ever comes over. At least not anybody that I actually know. We used to have salespeople knock on our door but that was pre-internet. Now the only people that knock on our door are Jehovah Witnesses but I haven't seen one of them for a long time. The last time one came over I asked them if nobdoy is going to go to hell, what do I need to join your church for because I heard once that Jehovah Witnesses don't believe that hell is an actual place. It kind of takes the fear of eternal damnation out of the equation. Since then they don't come over anymore.

I open the door. It's like looking into a mirror except this version of me has style. His hair is styled and it looks like he bothered to shave this morning, unlike me. He was wearing a silk shirt and had what must have been a two thousand dollar watch on his wrist. When I saw the watch I knew this couldn't possibly be me because I can't stand watches. "You look vaguely familiar." I comment after giving this guy a once over.

"You look patethic" Was his reply. He made no effort to hide the disgust in his voice. I have heard of self loathing but this took that to a whole different level. He stepped past me and entered my humble abode. If he was disgusted with my physical appearance, the appearance of my dumpy apartment did nothing to elevate his opinion of me. "What is wrong with you?" He asked as he was forced to concede that a lower class version of himself was not only possible but that he was staring at it.

"Do you have a few minutes?" I asked in response, "It's a pretty long list."

"How is it possible that we are the same person?" He asked. He was started to look depressed. Maybe that's why nobody wants to hang around me, just the sight of me causes people to want to commit suicide.

"Hey, are you saying that you and I are related?" I interjected, "because I'm not seeing it."

I thought the guys eye's wre going to pop out of his head. He was clearly having a hard time with my apparant lack of social status.

"I will try and explain it using small words that even young children can understand, You and I are the same person, from different realities. I have developed a machine that allows me to travel to different realities and that is how I got here." He talked slow. I was starting to get the impression he thought I was an idiot.

"Can we go back to your reality, It looks like I'm doing a lot better in your reality than I am doing in mine?" I was sure this guy lived in a mansion or something. If I can't have the warmth of human company without paying for it, it would sure be nice to have some top of the line stuff to help take some of the sting off.

"No" was his single word reply.

"Man, can't you cut me some slack" I begged," Can't you see I'm down on my luck"

"I don't think luck had anything to do with your condition," was his response, "But I will take you back with me IF you can beat me in a game of chess."

"Okay, so all I have to do is beat myself in a game of chess. Okay, I accept your challenge." I respond.

"Do you even know how to play chess?" He asked.

"Of course I know how to play chess." I respond as if the question was offensive.

"Fine." He takes out a chess set that he had been carrying (but I didn't notice it until this moment) and starts setting up the pieces. He takes two pawns, one white and one black in each hand and places his hands behind his back. After a few minutes he places his hands straight out and I pick one. I picked the white piece and I think perhaps my luck in changing after all.

I start the game off by flipping him the bird. I mean I started with Birds opening and when he tries to sacrifice his Kings pawn I transition into a King's gambit. The game was pretty textbook until we got well into the middle game. It was then that I made my mistake. My doppleganger took immediate advantage and I found myself on the losing side again. I guess I just wasn't meant to be anything.

"For a moment you showed promise." He said, "and then the moment was gone." The condisenion in his voice was gone and all that remained was the sadness over lost potential. He said he could not bare my presence any longer and said goodbye. Before he left he gave me a roll of twenty dollar bills and told me not to get myself into trouble with them. A couple months later a government agent appeared on my doorstep saying something about conterfiet money. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about but I got 20 years to life anyway. Thanks for nothing duplicate me.

I know that’s nothing new or shocking, but I feel the grit of that sentence intensifies the older you get, and you learn this same lesson over and over. The only hitch is that “not fair” slowly takes on more mature meanings.

It is no longer that someone cut in front of you in line, but that liars and cheaters actually succeed quite swimmingly in this world.

It is no longer that a slacker ruined everyone’s group project grade, but that one person, one slip up, can ruin a company.

It is no longer that you broke your arm and missed the rest of the baseball season, but that people die, and there are more important things they will miss.

Not one ever told me that life was fair. But no one ever told me, laying on the wood chipped ground, that it was only going to get harder.

The water’s rising quickly, but don’t worry.

I’ve saved you a spot at the bottom, love.

So, hold your mouth on mine one last time.

I want to steal that final breath from your lips.

Your trembling and gasping is beautiful, love.

I want to feel my hands close around your throat as I help the waves put you to sleep.

I want one last chance to run my fingers through your hair as the current swallows you whole.

Don’t worry, love.

I’ve saved you a lovely, cold bed right at the bottom to say good night.

I’ve saved you the tide to tuck you in.