I'm not that guy. I'm really not.

"Hey, man."
"Hey... you. Person." I can't control that one of my eyebrows is cocked. There are so many things wrong with this situation that I don't even know where to begin. I'm antisocial. I'm on break. I'm an anonymous visitor in this strange, wild, and wonderful state. I'd rather not be bothered with whatever this is going to be. I don't know this guy. He doesn't know me. He's looking at me like he does, though, and something else... oh, shit, he's happy to see me. This can't be a good thing. So much for enjoying my twenty minutes of quiet sanity recovery.
"So... J?"
"You can read. Very good."
"How have you been, man. I haven't seen you in like-"
"Ever?"
"It's been a minute, yeah."
"Wow. What do you want?"
"Do you remember me?"
"Nope."
"What? Stop playin'."
"Done."
"So... I was wondering... if you, uh..."
There's no way I'm helping him finish that sentence. Besides, I honestly don't know the fuck he wants or why he thinks he knows me or how I should know him or why the hell this stupid bullshit has to keep happening to me especially when I go out of my way to try to make sure to avoid ridiculous situations and encounters like this one. Damn.
"You still selling tabs, man? Can I get some from you?"
What the fuck?
"What the fuck?"
"Aren't you the guy?"
"No. I'm definitely not the guy."
"Are you sure, man? I swear you are."
"You better get the fuck out of here and outta my face. What is wrong with you?"
"Oh, hey. It's cool. It's my mistake."
"Hell yeah it is. I'm not a drug dealer."
"But you're just hanging out behind this building."
"I work here, asshole."
"Oh, ok. You just look exactly like my homie J. He used to hook me up all the time."
"I don't need to know any of that. Just get out of here."
"You aren't gonna report me, are you?"
"Report you to who? The dumbass police? They already know, trust me. Just... leave."

Ever since losing nearly fifty pounds, I've had moments like this. Most of them have been more tolerable but equally disorienting. Who ever my double is, he's a douchebag and I've inherited all the loose ends from his interrupted life. My guess: he's doing time somewhere. Lucky him.