Is That You?

All the doors seemed the same. Exactly the same. But of course, the doors weren't the only identical things that night. As Maria gazed through the large ajar door, panting for breath, her eyes screamed terror. Her eyes were red, though it was difficult to make out amidst the darkness, or nothingness.

People fear, and have always feared the unknown. This is largely because solution to the unknown cannot be evaluated by a set of predetermined possibilities, and hence make us completely helpless. But what was Maria afraid of? She recalled how her Mother would call out to her when she, afraid, would refuse to enter the dark storeroom - "There's nothing to be afraid of Mar, here's just me!". Just me.

But Maria is now brave. She isn't afraid of the dark. She isn't afraid of anything in fact (except cockroaches, of course!). She looked back. The terror in her eyes resembled the terror in the eyes of the deer when it hears the soft crumbling sound of the dry leaves, indicating the nearing footsteps of it's predator. But, which door to follow? They all had the same old world charm, antique finish and were equally alluring to anyone possibly stuck between them. The footsteps were drawing near. She was approaching. Maria tried hard not to be afraid. What was there to be afraid of oneself?

Then she approached from behind. Emerging out of the darkness was a cell-to-cell clone of Maria, as if a fresh print out from a human xerox machine. From the golden curls to the lean arms, from the scar on her back to the directionless look in her eyes, they shared it all. Maria was cold, she didn't feel her weight anymore. Her own figure gazed at her. Their sights met, but did not clash. One could run away from everything in this world, but not oneself.

She decided on confrontation. Her eyes, stupefied, met her own. The darkness of the pathway engulfed her existence, she felt as if she was sinking deep into an abyss, the sky of extreme disbelief crumbling into her. But she stood firm. What is there to be afraid of oneself? Or is there anything? In front of her is her exact clone. From the hair strands to the nails of her big toe, everything is identical. How would Sam recognize her? How would he distinguish her from that damn clone? But she knew Sam is a clever guy. He possibly cannot mistake her clone to be her. She can fight enemies, fraud people, wild animals. But who to possibly fight oneself?

The clone drew near. Maria did not move. Her feet stood tight like the roots of a banyan tree. Maria could hear her breath. Even her breath synced with the identical incarnation. Suddenly, the door creaked. Another figure emerged into the pathway. No, it wasn't another clone. It was Sam. It was Maria's lover, Sam. Sam glared at both of them, stopping at each one for about two seconds. Sam's eyes screamed a helpless grey despair. He shrugged. He had always passionately loved Maria. He was familiar to her every feature, every thought. But it was just like his lover had split into two, one indistinguishable from the other. How does he find out whom had he dearly loved?

Sam took a deep breath. Both of the women looked at him which the same unnamed trust, with the same twinkling hope with which Maria had looked at her when they first met at the hill, by the river. This is getting difficult. 
"What does Maria love to eat?" Sam screamed out. 
Both of them answered, in the same obvious tone, "Chocolate sundaes.". 
This ain't easy. 
"What does Maria enjoy the most?"
"Watching sunsets." came the unanimous answer.
"What is she most afraid of?"
"Closed spaces."

This is getting tougher. But there is way. There has to be.

Gently but swiftly, Sam moved sideways. The candle was burning dimly by the door curtains. He held up his hands and gently pushed the flickering candle and in no time, the whole hallway was on massive fire. It was hardly visible where the two women were, for visibility was blocked with massive dark smoke, making it difficult to breath. Sam held up a rod to clear the path. The two women have fled to save their lives. Now what was Sam to do? The huge door beside him was on fire and was just about to come down on him.

The door was just about to fall when a hand gripped Sam's, and pulled him towards it. It was a familiar touch. The pressure of the grip, the temperature of the palm seemed familiar. The touch sent a warm signal through the veins, screaming, "Don't worry I am here." Sam looked up. It was Maria. Her eyes gleamed with relief, amidst the smokey illusion. Her face beamed. They held each other together, firmly. Sam knew there was no one else in the vicinity. They were in this together. He had identified her. It was her touch, it was her. It suddenly got a little warmer.