Doppelgänger Dom

I glanced over and recognized him – Dom, someone between acquantance and friend.  He glanced back, with a look that said he might know me as well.  His name almost fell from my mouth, just as my brain engaged solidly, locking in my error.  That’s not Dom!

Not so much embarrassed as bewildered I looked away, giving too much attention to the cream I was pouring into my coffee.  The Dom I know while not gregarious, would have engaged.  I dared not look again for re-confirmation, thus confirming for Doppelgänger Dom that I was quite possibly touched in the head.

Taking my seat I discovered that the service island in the coffee shop blocked my view to he and his companion.  Damn!  Maybe it is Dom; maybe I pissed him off the last time we spoke.  Not unlikely given my poor social graces, but Dom is known for his calm and clement demeanor.  I would surely recall an act so egregious that even he would find no forgiveness for the slight.

Move out of the way you sugar hog, I can almost see him from the corner of my eye!

Finally, my angst-riddled patience paid off.  There he stood – taller than Dom, less ebullient than Dom.  Doppelgänger Dom made no salutation toward me, this crazy man typing in the corner.  Having cleaned up their table, I watched as Doppelgänger Dom and his companion walked out the door.    ~TH~

—Once more I analyze the internal voice that is constantly restructuring everything I observe, that voice that attempts to make sense of what other people might be thinking.  I still fervently believe that more often than not, that little voice gets it wrong.—  ~T~

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