The Stranger

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I had to move rooms this past week. I’ve got a room mate now — Jerry. The first night in the room, I went to bed. All was normal. Nothing terrible. Bed a bit hard. Room mate didn’t snore too loudly. No probs. I promptly conked out and slept soundly.

I awakened with dawn’s first light. My eyes opened and I found myself staring at someone who seemed to be looking right at me. Finding this odd, I just kind of sat there wondering. “Who in the hell is this idiot staring at? Why the hell did Jerry arrange these damn wall lockers so that I can see him? What the hell is up with this gap? This is freakin’ odd.”

I didn’t move for a while and sat there pondering this odd situation when I finally realized that I was looking into a mirror and the dude who was staring at me was….ME.

I started to chuckle…got up…took a shower…got on with the day.

Later that day or the next, I told Jerry the story and I thought the veins in his forehead would burst from laughing so hard.

I laughed right along with him. Hell, it was funny.

I was confused as hell that first morning in my new room. I’m not accustomed to seeing myself without my glasses. I was a stranger in a strange room that first morning.

A few days later, Jerry moved the mirrored door so as to avoid further baffling his old, senile room mate.

 

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