Meeting myself

A strange trip to a grocery store.

I stand in the dairy section, considering which milk brand to buy. I turn to ask my son, Christopher, which brand he thinks I should get, but he's nowhere to be seen. I suppose he's somewhere in the video game section. That seems to be where he's always at when we visit walmart these days.  

"Hello, ma'am. Is there anything you need some assistance with?" A voice says, interrupting my thoughts. The person sounds familiar, yet I can't put my finger on who it is, so I turn around to look.

Standing only three or four feet away from me is a young teenage girl, probably 14 or 15. She looks familiar. She looks like... me. 

"What's your name, darling?" I ask. Surely this can't be me. There's no possible way I could be meeting the past, teenager-version of myself. 

"My name's Tris. Can't you tell? I mean, I'm you, after all!" The girl asks, staring at me with the same bright blue eyes that I have. 

I take a step closer to get a better look at her. She has the same freckles as me. The same dark brown hair as me. The same scar on my cheek as me, from when I was in a car accident as a toddler.

She is me. I am staring at myself. 

The End

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