"This isn't real," she explained. Something was lodged in my neck. Everything was blurry, like when I'd hit my head falling from the swing last year. Only her voice was clear, echoing from a short distance behind my ears. "Everything's fine, it'll only take a few minutes."

"What are you doing?" I managed to ask.

"Housekeeping," she said. "You're the second-to-last on my list." Her voice was deeper somehow, not as I imagined it. She sounded like one of my teachers. A shadow shifted over me, then there she was, face-to-face, with that tight-lipped smile she always had in my dreams. "There. Now we can talk. How have you been, friend?"

That last word jarred me. "You never texted in months, I -- I don't know, I should be asking the questions here, I think." Where was I? Why couldn't I move?

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked, sweetly.

"Sleeping -- I think?" I racked my memory. My eyes hurt and my face felt wet. Then I remembered I had cried in the night, but I didn't tell her that. "It's a school night, I think I should be asleep, I've got AV duty tomorrow."

"2013, 2014, sounds about right." She nodded, her hands ticking off something on an invisible notepad. Then she looked up into my eyes. "In that case, I'm so, so, incredibly sorry."

"What?"

"That's what you want to hear, right?" She double-checked her invisible notes. "I mean, I'm going to say as much to you in a couple months over Facebook, but it's best you also hear it in person."

"Sorry, I mean -- no, it's my fault, I don't know what happened, I should've stayed in touch."

"Did you really?"

"I don't know. I deserved it." I was speaking from instinct, recalling dream-encounters, inner monologues, thought-loops that snaked vine-like around her image. "I'm a bad person. You don't have to be sorry."

She must have found my words amusing, for her voice laughed, though her face didn't. "Is that how it felt like?" she chuckled. "Are you sure you're not even a little bit angry?"

I deserved you, I wanted to scream. We were counterparts, we were twins, we were mirrored shards. You and I are one and the same. But I swallowed my words, because she didn't deserve anger. I said: "I've been thinking about you a lot, and I think I'm okay with you now."

"Funny, that's what you said in 2018," she muttered, staring at her hands. "That's what you also said in 2021, and 2026."

"I'm serious. The version of you that tolerated me is gone. That's why you didn't text back. That's why I cut you off, to save yourself the embarrassment of me."

"The only one that's embarrassed of you is yourself," she said, and her voice really did sound like a teacher's, gently scolding but not criticising. "I just wanted some closure, that's all. Both our past selves could've done a lot better."

"Am I dead?" I asked expectantly. "Is that what it is? We both die together?"

"As much as you'd wish otherwise, you are very much alive," she said. "You're a happily-married interior designer or something by now. I don't know. Man, future-you definitely wasn't kidding about the angst down in here."

I looked down, ashamed. "I'm just really thankful you came into my life and showed me how to be a person, that's all. I promise I'm not mad or anything."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Strangely, I thought I'd be blushing, or leaking tears, but instead I felt oddly serene, like my body was made of glass. "I don't know what's going on, but since you're here talking to me now, I just want you to know that I'm alright, and that I don't want to depend on you anymore."

Somehow it didn't make me feel any different, saying it to her in person rather than in my imagination, but she seemed to understand, at least in a hollow way. "That's very sweet of you," she said. "Thank you for your honesty."

"I'll never forget you as long as I live." Again, the words came out too easily. I had the feeling I would never get the chance to say them again.

"Eh," she shrugged, "we'll see about that."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"No, really."

She got up. There was nothing behind her or under her; in fact, there seemed to be no distance between us at all. For a moment, she seemed relieved. "Well, your readings say otherwise, but at least there's no outwardly harsh feelings here. Junior college'll be fun. Stick to your boys, don't send weird messages to your crushes, and let go of me, alright?"

"What? No, I'm sorry -- I won't be like the other guys, I swear!"

"I think that's about done. Thanks for seeing me." This time, I think she really meant it. "Goodbye, old friend."

"Thank you! Thank you so m -- "

Then the thing in my neck withdrew, and black cold seeped in.