Iteration

Paul sat on the sofa, the television casting a faint glow across the living room.

A newscaster droned on about the weather. Paul wasn’t listening. The steady voice was almost soothing.

His head began to bob.

Once.

Twice.

He tried to stay awake, but exhaustion won.

His chin fell to his chest.

Paul stood up.

He turned to the small table beside the sofa, took his keys and wallet, and headed for the front door.

He opened it.

Before stepping outside, he looked back.

There was Paul, still on the sofa, fast asleep.

He stared at the sleeping man for a moment, shook his head, and stepped out into the night without a word.

_____

The night was especially cold.

Paul walked the busy streets, hands in his pockets. Vendors called out to passing customers. People spoke into their phones or to one another. Cars rolled by, some with music loud enough to rattle the windows.

Paul paid little attention to any of it.

At the next intersection, he turned left.

With each step, the noise of the main road faded behind him. The voices grew distant. The traffic thinned.

He quickened his pace.

He was close now.

At the next corner stood an empty lot between two houses, dirt and scattered stones covering the ground where a building had once stood.

A small tree grew near the edge of the lot.

Paul crossed to it and stopped beneath its branches, their shadow cutting through the glow of a nearby streetlight.

Then he looked across the street.

Beyond a parking lot, a large red neon sign burned against the darkness.

EMERGENCY ROOM.

Paul stood motionless beneath the tree and waited.

_____

The front doors of the hospital opened.

A woman stepped outside.

Long black waves framed her face. She wore green scrubs, and a red-and-white duffel bag hung from one shoulder.

She headed toward the parking lot.

For a moment, she disappeared behind a parked ambulance.

Then she emerged on the other side and kept walking.

Keys dangled from one hand.

She raised her arm.

A white Nissan SUV flashed its lights.

Paul did not move.

The woman reached the driver’s door, opened it, and tossed the duffel bag inside.

Then she lifted her head.

She looked around once.

Then again.

A crease formed between her brows.

Finally, she climbed into the SUV.

The headlights came on.

The vehicle backed out, turned, and began crossing the parking lot.

Halfway to the exit, it stopped.

One second.

Two.

Then it went on.

At the corner, it turned and disappeared into the night.

Paul exhaled.

“Every night,” he whispered.

Then he turned and walked back the way he had come.

___

Sarah walked down the corridor leading to the hospital exit.

“Good night, Sarah.”

The voice behind her pulled her from her thoughts.

“Good night, Steven,” she said without turning around. “Tell Becky I said hi.”

“Will do.”

Sarah adjusted the red-and-white duffel bag on her shoulder and continued toward the doors.

A moment later, she stepped outside.

The cool night air washed over her face.

She crossed the parking lot, passing an ambulance on her way to the white SUV parked near the far end.

Raising her hand, she pressed the key fob.

The vehicle flashed its lights.

Sarah opened the driver’s door and tossed her bag onto the passenger seat.

Then she paused.

Slowly, she lifted her head and scanned the parking lot.

Left.

Right.

Then once more.

After a moment, she exhaled and climbed inside.

The engine started.

She shifted into reverse and let the SUV roll backward before pulling forward and heading toward the exit.

Near the corner, her eyes drifted to the photograph resting on the dashboard.

It showed her and Paul.

She reached over and straightened the crooked frame.

Then she glanced to her left.

Her foot slammed on the brake.

Across the street, beneath a small tree at the edge of an empty lot, a figure stood motionless in the darkness.

Sarah stared for a beat, then pressed the accelerator and drove away.

____

Paul entered his apartment building and headed down the corridor.

His fists were buried deep in his pockets.

At the end of the hallway, he stopped in front of his door.

He pulled out his keys and unlocked it.

The door opened with a soft creak.

Paul stepped inside.

And froze.

His jaw parted slightly.

Standing beside the sofa was Paul.

Sweat glistened on his forehead. His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths.

He was staring directly at him.

Neither of them moved.

The two Pauls stared at each other.

The Paul by the door tightened his grip on the keys.

The one beside the sofa swallowed hard.

Finally, the Paul by the door spoke.

“Who are you?”

The other frowned.

“No. Who are you?”

___

Before either could say another word, a phone began to ring.

Both heads turned toward the sofa.

The Paul on the sofa stirred.

For a moment, neither of the standing Pauls moved.

Then the sleeping Paul raised his head and blinked.

The phone continued to ring.

He reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and looked at the screen.

“Sarah…?”

He answered.

“Hello?”

A pause.

His expression tightened.

“What do you mean?”

Another pause.

“I wasn’t stalking you.”

The two standing Pauls exchanged a glance.

The Paul on the sofa frowned.

“I was sleeping.”

____

“Okay… Sarah? Sarah?”

Silence.

Paul lowered the phone and stared at it for a moment.

The call had ended.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and got up from the sofa.

Stretching his arms above his head, he yawned.

Then he paused.

Something about the apartment felt wrong.

The silence.

The stillness.

The emptiness.

He stood there for a few seconds, looking around the living room.

Nothing moved.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Yet the feeling lingered.

Shaking it off, he headed for the bedroom.

A few minutes later, he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Hot water poured over him.

The steam quickly filled the room, fogging the mirror above the sink.

For a while, he thought about nothing at all.

Just the water.

Just the heat.

When he finally stepped out, the mirror was completely covered in condensation.

Paul dried himself, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and stepped up to the sink.

He picked up his toothbrush.

Then stopped.

A line crept across the fogged glass.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Paul froze.

Another line appeared.

Then another.

A single symbol emerged from the mist.

?

He took a step back.

“Hello…?”

The tracing stopped.

The bathroom fell silent.

Paul swallowed.

“Is someone there?”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a new line appeared.

Slowly.

Carefully.

One letter at a time.

Y.

E.

S.

___

“Who are you?”

The words came out louder than Paul intended.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the tracing began again.

A line appeared across the fogged glass.

Then another.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Y.

O.

U.