The time was…well, Chris wasn’t exactly sure what time it was. In fact, he wasn’t sure of anything really. What happened last night? Why am I on the floor? Is that light shining through the curtains sunlight or hellfire? Where’s my aspirin? The one thing he knew for certain was that today was Friday, AKA a work day. He decided to relegate those questions to a future Chris. 

Chris peeled himself off his bedroom floor and stumbled his way to the bathroom. His head had been dully pounding since he woke up. He jankily rummaged through the bathroom cabinets and popped the first pills he saw. Hoping whatever he took would relieve him of the dull ache behind his temples, Chris looked at the mirror. What looked back was the same brunette man as always, except this time, his eye bags were slightly more pronounced and his sclera a pink, slightly orange tone. The suit he seemingly adorned last night was now wrinkled and covered in a shimmery substance. He sighed, patted himself on the face a couple of times, and pulled out his phone, which was in his suit pocket. Convenient. The cracked screen read 8:45 AM. After accepting there was no way in hell he’d make it to work on time, Chris started to get dressed.

About 25 minutes later, Chris was still at home. 15 of those minutes were spent in a frantic search for a silver watch gifted to him by his sister. He wore it exclusively to work; it made the interns think he was higher up than he actually was. It was now 9:15, and, begrudgingly, Christopher foresook the search for his watch and left the house. Or, that would be what happened if his car were outside. 

Chris stood frozen in the driveway of his home for a solid 5 minutes. A reality where an entire automobile, a 4,000-pound machine that Chris paid for monthly, would disappear up and disappear simply was not one he could accept. Contemplation washed over him. I either kill myself and the nearest person or I ‘borrow’ the nearest, fanciest car. And though both were great ideas, a secret, eviler, much more masochistic option appeared: Public Transportation. Just the thought made him recoil. Chris prided himself on being “old-fashioned.” And though the thought of riding in the same space as hobos, old people, and pregnant women disgusted him, he’d rather die than download a rideshare app. There was also the thought of skipping out on work, but seeing as he was already on the chopping block, he decided against it. Head, heart, and spirit heavy, Chris laboured toward the nearest bus stop.

*******

It was about 10:00 AM when Chris finally made it to work. An entire hour late. Chris didn’t care that much for punctuality, but even he could admit that it was a bit crazy. However, this wasn’t going to discourage him from picking on anyone else who dared to be late to his office.

DING! The elevator doors opened to the fourth floor of Corcleft Inc. as usual, and out walked Chris, late, also as usual. He strolled down the hallway before catching a glimpse of a familiar face– Tommy. Clearly, Tommy also saw Chris since he shifted his steps toward Chris’s direction. 

“Yo, man-”, Tommy’s friendly smile quickly fell, “What happened to you?” Tommy’s random concern was a bit disconcerting, especially since Chris had shown fake concern toward Tommy in the past. He debated whether it was a prank before concluding that Tommy was too stupid for that. 

“I had to ride a bus full of people too poor or inept to own a car.”

“They have buses downstairs now? Did it hit you?” 

Chris squinted, “Tommy, what the hell are you talking about?” His irritation was beginning to grow.

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one talking about buses. I thought it would explain why you look…like that…all of a sudden,” Tommy stroked his chin, “Or maybe another rendezvous with Sandra, perhaps?” he chuckled.

“I knew it was a mistake talking to you. It always is,” with an exasperated sigh, Chris pushed past Tommy and started toward his desk.

“Wait! Christopher!” Tommy clumsily followed behind him, “Get as bent out of shape as you want, but did you at least deliver that thumb drive like I asked you to?”

Now, Chris was irritated and confused.

“You didn’t ask me to do anything, Tommy. I just got here. Lay off whatever it is you’re smoking; it’s clearly having effects,” Chris replied dryly.

“Bu-”

Chris was already halfway down the hall by the time he heard Tommy’s faint attempt to contradict him. Chris thought he looked distinct enough from the other guys in the office; he was taller, at least. Why would he even think I’d deliver something for him in general? Dumbass. 

Deciding not to let Tommy’s foolishness bruise his ego anymore, Chris sat down at his desk.

Peace at last. Or for a few seconds, as a warm, snarky voice appeared behind Chris’s head.

“Jesus, did you fall down a flight of stairs or something?”

It was Sandra, in all her airy, arrogant glory.

He scoffed, “Didn’t know you and Tommy shared the same supplier.” Chris spun his desk chair toward the red-headed woman, who was closer than he expected.

“Wow, Christopher. You look even worse facing forward,” her voice showed genuine concern, but something about her face felt fake. On the topic of her face, Sandra didn’t look that bad today. Chris never thought Sandra to be ugly; he wouldn’t have slept with her, drunk or not, if he thought she was. For him, she was alright. But, something– be it lighting or whatever –made her slightly…attractive. He could see the way her most likely dyed, red hair reflected the cheap office lights, and how her tannish skin was speckled with small freckles. She never wore much makeup besides maybe eyeliner, mascara, and some lip gloss, but loved a nice piece of jewelry. Her outfit– Before he could finish his thought, Sandra started speaking again.

“Hellooo? Earth to Mr. Jenkins.”

Nevermind, Chris concluded he was definitely just repressed.

He cleared his throat, but slouched in his chair, “ Were you saying something?” 

A slightly annoyed expression grew across Sandra’s face. She sighed and sat at the desk across from him. She leaned forward and brushed her hair back. Her face turned serious. Chris felt like he was at a parent-teacher conference. 

“Christopher, no bullshit, are you okay?”

A thick silence enveloped them both. For a moment, it seemed as if it were just them in the office; As if no one else existed. It lasted for a good 15 seconds.

SNORT. Sandra jumped back. Chris had started laughing. So much so that his chair threatened to take them both to the office floor. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Ha! What the hell was that- hold on, give me a sec–”, he took short gasps between his cackling, “Oh my god, Sandra, you were so serious!” Chris’s cackling turned into howling. Even he was surprised he didn’t pass out. “Phew! That was a good one, thanks for that. Seriously, what’s with you guys today?” Chris said, wiping the tears from his eyes. He glanced at a now red-hot Sandra. She looked seconds away from aggravated battery. 

“Go to hell, Christopher,” she said, in such a tone that Christopher wondered if she was actually upset. “You’re such a-”

“I’m a what?” Chris replied with a slight smirk. He was poking a high-heeled wearing bear, and it was the pinnacle of comedy to him. 

Sandra grunted before taking a deep breath, “I don’t know what’s managed to crawl up your ass in the last 10 minutes, but I’ll be sure to rip it out if you keep it up.”

“Didn’t think you were that kinda girl Sandra,” he fluttered his eyelashes mockingly, “At least take me out to dinner first.” He laughed. And proceeded to duck the flying stress ball Sandra hurled at him. Although there was one thing that bothered him.  The last 10 minutes? He paused.

“Now what?” Sandra sighed irritably, deciding what to throw next.

“ …Last 10 minutes?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘in the last 10 minutes.’ I wasn’t here, or at least not here with you, 10 minutes ago.”

Sandra scowled, “Goodbye, Christopher. I don’t exactly know what you gain from this, but whatever.”

Sandra forcefully rose out of the desk chair, careful not to trip. Meanwhile, Chris, confused as ever, turned his attention to his desk monitor. He jolted his mouse, readying himself to put in four incorrect passwords. However, the monitor had already been signed into. Various tabs or random reports were pulled up. Even weirder was that the reports were finished. Chris hadn’t done that. In all actuality, he didn’t plan to for a good while. Is it a cybercrime to hack someone’s computer and finish their work? Was that a thing? Probably not, but it was the only conclusion he had. This whole day had been odd enough without the possibility that Chris had fallen for a phishing scam. At least that meant he had little to do today.

*******

After about 20 minutes of mindless scrolling on his phone, Chris finally decided to do something: go to the bathroom. With a stiff grunt, he jumped to his feet and began his laborious journey. Halfway through, he ran into yet another familiar face.

“Oh, hey, Christopher!”

It was the man whose name started with an R. The guy Chris was supposed to send those reports to. Yikes. The older, scrawnier man approached. Chris steadied himself.

“Good morning,” Chris said firmly, hoping a plain greeting would somehow make the other man forget.

“Oh, uh, good morning…again! Haha.” Again? The man laughed once more, “I just wanted to thank you for finally sending those reports I asked for! I looked through them, and they were great! The extra day was worth the wait for sure!” What? 

“Hm. That’s great, and I’m so happy that you’re happy with it.” Chris got an uncomfortable amount closer to the man. “Hey, you mind answering a question for me, Ryan?”

“Ronnie.”

“Whatever.” Chris placed a heavy hand on the older man’s shoulder and leaned down, “Am I being punk’d?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“You see, everyone keeps talking about me like I was already here, which is odd, because if my calculations are correct, I arrived here about 45 minutes ago.  And it’s not just talk, either; work that I hadn’t even dreamt of starting is suddenly polished and complete. Don’t you also think that’s weird, Ronnie?” Christopher tightened his grip on Ronnie’s shoulder. Ronnie was visibly shaken.

“I promise I don’t know anything! I swear! W-when I saw you this morning, everything seemed fine, although you were more upbeat than usual,” Chris glared, and Ronnie winced. “I assumed you had just changed clothes or gotten in an accident when I saw you again! I really don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Y-”

Before Chris could continue his line of questioning, in walked Sandra and Tommy, both puzzled at the scene before them.

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” asked Tommy. Sandra remained silent.

Chris extended a finger in the two’s direction, “And you two! The most egregious offenders today!” Chris’s volume increased, and so did his grasp on Ronnie’s shoulder.

“Christopher, none of us know what you’re talking about,” Sandra chimed in, “Let go of that poor man and tell us why you’re yelling.”

Chris scoffed, “This isn’t yelling, but I can show you if you’d like. Maybe after you all explain to me why the hell everyone’s acting like I’ve been here longer than I actually have! You, Tommy, and this weirdo have clearly teamed up to trick me! Either that or you’re all experiencing group psychosis, which is the most preferable option here.” Chris realized he probably looked crazy. It didn’t matter anymore.

An air of befuddlement was thick in the area, Tommy decided add to it.

“But you were here, man! Heck, you showed up before any of us did! And you definitely looked more professional than you do now.”

Sandra nodded, “You were actually pleasant to be around, too.”

This doesn’t make sense. None of it does. Chris was angry now. 

“That’s quite literally impossible, considering I didn’t get here until 10! Stop messing around and tell me what’s really going on!”

“Dude, you told me that you had to ride the bus to work, but your car is outside. Are you sure you’re not the one messing around?” Tommy chided.

DING! The elevator doors opened, quelling the discourse. Outwalked a man with a weirdly sunny disposition. He stood at a posture-perfect 6’0, and adorned a wrinkle-free, crisp black and white suit, matched with fresh black dress shoes and a silver watch. His hair was so perfectly slicked back, you’d think he was straight out of an ad. The interesting part, however, had nothing to do with garments. It was his face. To say this man bore a resemblance to Chris would be an understatement. He was Chris, but how? 

The silence continued. No one really knew what to say, or at least how to say it. The man spoke up.

“Hello again, everyone! I had a few errands to run, so I took an early lunch break,” the man smiled, then glanced at Chris, “Oh, I see you’ve finally woken up. I didn’t want to disturb you this morning.” His smile remained intact. Chris stared in disbelief. This wasn’t possible.

Everyone stared for a few seconds, followed by a large group, “Huh?”

“See, I told you he was messing with us! Clearly, he has a twin brother he’s never told us about, and is using him to prank us.” There was doubt in Tommy’s voice; even he wasn’t sure he fully believed that. 

“If that’s the case, then which is the real Christopher?” Sandra inquired, unable to produce a conclusion of her own.

“I’m Christopher, and I don’t have a twin,” remarked the two Christophers in perfect unison. Chris let go of Ronnie.

“See, it’s rehearsed!” Tommy clearly had no intent in believing otherwise. As Chris, Sandra, and Tommy went back and forth, the neater Christopher turned toward Ronnie.

“I’m sorry for all the confusion, Ryan.” his smile was never-fading, it seemed, “Were those reports to your liking? I tried to be as thorough as possible, as I didn’t want to distract you from focusing on your aunt. How is she, by the way?” 

“Thats not my–well, she– t-they were,” a flustered Ronnie struggled to get the words out. “Well-”

Chris jumped in, “Nevermind him! Who are you, and why do you look like me?!” 

The other man shrugged, “I could ask you the same thing, y’know. I woke up, and there you were on the ground. You were sleeping so peacefully, and I had to get ready for work, so I left you there. Figured it’d be an issue for later, haha.” Chris wanted to knock the smile from the supposed other him’s face. He then caught a glimpse of the other man’s wrist.

“Not only did you take my face, my job, and my car, but my watch too?!”

“Don’t you mean my watch? My sister gave it to me. She’s such a nice person.”

“You liar! First of all, my sister gave it to me. Second, even if we were talking about the same person, which I’m sure we’re not, she’s a total priss.”

Eventually, the arguments became an indecipherable ball of befuddlement. The incident grew to a commotion; nosy workers all gathered to see what was disrupting the office peace. Office drones and interns alike all joined in on the confusion. The abrupt lack of productivity was enough to summon a Powell to the scene.

“What’re you all doing?! What’s going on here?!” Powell’s voice boomed through the small crowd. She pushed her way to the front and found Sandra, Tommy, Ronnie (who was still there for some reason, and the two Christophers. She approached the center. Chris immediately took note of her.

“Powell! Maybe you can help out here. Tell them that I’m the real Christopher! Ask me a question or something, anything!”

Powell stared blankly at the man and sighed, “I don’t really see how that’d help here, Mr. Jenkins, seeing as you and the…other Mr. Jenkins are cut from the same cloth. Or maybe that’s incorrect to say.” She pondered her word choice for a moment before continuing, “Whatever it may be, this is a discussion that can be held in private, and perhaps not blocking the elevator. The rest of you, get back to work if you want to stay employed. Dos Jenkins, Sandra P., and Tommy W. stay.” 

The crowd scurried away, leaving just the few. Powell stared at the two identical men, almost like she was trying to observe something. The group was once again thrust into uncomfortable silence. 

Sandra cleared her throat, “Uh, ma’am…why’d you ask Tommy and me to stay?” She shuffled a bit, “And could you please explain what all–” she gestured to the doubles, “ – this is?” 

“You two are here because you’re the strongest witnesses if something goes wrong.”

“If something goes wrong?”

“Yes.” Powell walked up to Chris and the other man and began tugging on their faces. 

An “OW!” erupted from both men. Powell continued poking and prodding at the two until she was seemingly satisfied, “Remarkable; You two are the same physically, but mentally you’re completely different. One is considerably neater, whilst the other looks like he crawled out of the underworld.”

“Yeah, isn’t that how twins work?” Tommy said, despite the twin theory growing increasingly null.

The neater Chris readjusted his suit jacket, “I don’t have a twin.”

“I also don’t have a twin,” added regular Chris. This was starting to get old.

“They’re correct,” Powell said while moving to the middle of the group. Everyone follow me. You’ve caused enough distraction for the hour.” She began walking and, just like cattle, everyone followed her.

*******

It wasn’t often that Chris visited Powell’s office in a group. Considering Powell once told him that she preferred one-on-one visits when it came to him, it wasn’t very surprising. Still, meeting with multiple people in Powell’s office felt weird.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s establish a few things,” Powell pointed at Chris, “You’re Chris–” she swung her finger to the other Christopher, who was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa Chris was on, “ – And you’re Topher. Got it? Good.”

“Can I ask why I’m Topher, ma’am?” 

“For one, you just called me ‘ma’am’. And second, Topher is a much more fitting name for someone of your demeanor. You’re practically a doormat.”

Topher hung his head a bit, “Aw, okay.”

“My point exactly.” Powell grabbed an already-filled glass of wine from her desk, walked to the couch across from Chris and Topher, and plopped down. She took silent sips and stared at the two men. Sandra and Tommy stood in the corners of the room uncomfortably.

“Sooo, Mrs. Powell…” Tommy started to speak.

“Hm?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you don’t really seem all that shocked about this. It’s a bit disconcerting, considering you don’t think they’re just twins.”

Powell let out an annoyed sigh; she seemed to love doing that. “No, Tommy, Chris and Topher are not twins. I know this because we do extensive background checks on all of you before we even consider employing you. I have as much information on you all as needed, including the fact that Christopher Jenkins’s only sibling is Celine Jenkins, who is 4 years older than him. As for these two’s behavior, there are enough cameras in this building to produce a 5-season docuseries. I simply watch and observe.”

Tommy paused, “So if they aren’t twins, then…how can there be two Christophers?” Tommy looked like he was short-circuiting. Chris couldn’t really tell why, as the theory had no real merit anyway.

“That’s not my concern. My concern lies with the fact that one of my employees is now two different people while still somehow being one. And seeing as those two didn’t even seem to realize they were the same person until 5 minutes ago, I doubt you’ll ever get your answer,” Powell said sternly. She took a couple more sips of her wine before setting it down on the coffee table in front of her. Usually, Chris could read her demeanor pretty well, or at least he could when he was Christopher. But now? Now it was damn near impossible. She was like this apathetic black void; there was nothing there except for what she wanted you to know. 

Chris glanced over to Topher, who’d kinda just been sitting there. Could he read her? Since they were once the same person, it wouldn’t be crazy to assume the distribution of traits was slightly random. Or maybe it was meticulous. Chris wasn’t sure what to think. Lost in thought, he almost didn’t hear Sandra start to speak.

“So what does that mean from Christ– I mean Chris and Topher? All of their work was meant for one person, and then there’s the issue of desk assignment. And how do you even pay them if the original is gone?” Sandra was surprisingly concerned. Chris finally decided to chime in.

“She’s right. How are we getting paid?”

“Technically, Christopher Jenkins still exists. And who knows, maybe you two will unlock a chakra and fuse back together or something. All that to say, you two will be sharing a paycheck. All the other things are TBD,” Powell replied.

“So let me get this straight, you expect the two of us to continue living as one person despite having two completely different bodies and characteristics? You think that’s a rational way for people to live? I already have to share a home with the bastard, you think I wanna share money?!” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about that, Chris. This was already decided.”

“By who? I have something that’ll change their mind!” Chris began cracking his knuckles, much to Topher’s chagrin. 

Topher grabbed Chris’s arm, “There’s no need for all that. Look on the bright side, we’re still employed! And while we’ll have to split an already modest paycheck, at least we’ll be paid in good work and camaraderie!” He smiled. The room’s eyes turned toward Topher. Chris had never wanted to slap a smile from someone’s face so badly. Chris turned back to Powell.

“Powell, you can’t be serious.”

“But I am, Chris. You should be more like your better half and make the best of your situation,” Powell gestured to Sandra and Tommy. “As I said before, you two are my strongest witnesses due to your proximity to dumb and dumber. I don’t expect you to do anything, but just know you’ll be the first point of reference if something happens. You’re free to leave now.”

“Why do you keep talking like that?” Sandra queried, but received nothing more than a glare and a ‘shoo’ gesture. Begrudgingly, she left, dragging Tommy with her. Only three remained.

“Well, Mrs. Powell, thank you so much for the update. I’m happy that you’ve found at least a temporary solution to our problem, and I hope our presence won’t bother you much! Unfortunately, I told a few coworkers I’d assist them with their reports, so I’ll be heading out.” Topher jumped to his feet, waved, and walked out of the office.

“He sure is enthusiastic. Did you need something, Chris?”

“It’s fake.”

“Hm? What is?”

“Him, his whole demeanor. He’s only acting this way for his own benefit; It’s not like he actually gives a damn. You said he and I used to be the same person, right? Well, I know when I’m being disingenuous, and he’s basically a walking example.” Chris sneered.

“And? What’s wrong with that? Just means he knows how to get what he wants. Besides, how sure can you be that’s the case? From what I’ve seen, you two are just halves of the same whole. For example, you’ve been nothing but abrasive since you’ve arrived. Does it feel like you can be anything else?” Powell got up from the couch and walked over to her desk. 

Chris wasn’t sure how to answer that question. 

He looked down a bit before picking his head back up, “This isn’t about me. It’s about him. You can call me ‘abrasive’ or whatever, but at least I’m authentic!”

Powell chuckled, “So you’re the brand-name chips, and he’s the cheap, store-brand version? Is that what you believe?” Powell’s face then straightened out, “You haven’t even been a person for long, and you’re already a mess. Let’s be clear, Chris; the most authentic version of you is not you, just as the most authentic version of Topher is not Topher. Both of you are incomplete. You weren’t meant to function separately. Because of that, you’ll always be a tad manufactured unless Christopher Jenkins, whole, is brought back into existence. Anything else?”

Chris was truly speechless now. Manufactured. That never crossed his mind.

“No, that’s all. I’ll be going now,” Chris rose to his feet and began his departure from Powell’s office. Before completely walking out, he glanced back at the blonde woman. She seemed completely unconcerned. He thought so at least, as he could no longer tell Powell’s thoughts.

Manufactured?

*******

Both men continued their work days in different ways. Chris’s time was mainly spent scrolling endlessly on his phone, flirting terribly with his female coworkers, and answering the occasional email. The most notable thing he did was give a half-assed presentation for Tommy. Apparently, the thumbdrive Tommy sent Chris’s worse half to get contained it. There was no plan for either Jenkins to present in Tommy’s stead. That was, until Tommy offered Chris $50 to do it. Tommy’s family had been in town, and he supposedly wanted to see them off. Either that or Tommy rolled his ankle and was heading to a clinic. Chris wasn’t really paying much attention until the mention of payment, plus he was still pissed from earlier. 

Presentation-wise, the audience of suits was pretty receptive to it. Everything was going well until Chris referred to one of them as a ‘bumbling idiot’ and destroyed any goodwill toward him.

On the other hand, Topher seemed to be well-liked. Every person who hung around Topher always seemed happier, much to the amazement of Chris, who found his personality vomit-inducing. Topher had already completed Christopher’s would-be-work for the week and mainly spent his time hovering around others like some kind of bee, offering help where it was and wasn’t needed. But despite exhibiting such an annoyingly desperate behavior, people still enjoyed his presence. It was odd; nobody was really paying much attention to Chris, save for when they realized there was a second him running around the office. 

It wasn’t the thought of people not liking him that drove Chris crazy; it was the thought of people liking Topher more. After all, they were the same person, right? A slight behavior change should’ve made no difference if people actually liked Christopher Jenkins. At least that’s what Chris told himself. Which made total sense.

Even Sandra and Tommy seemed be like Topher more. Chris sat in the break room, sulking. Just as he was starting to get over it, in walked the devil.

“Good afternoon, Chris! How’s your day been so far?” Topher asked in a nauseatingly cheerful tone. Chris remained silent.

“Don’t feel like talking? That’s fine. It has been a long day, haha,” Topher opened a box of donuts on the counter and placed one on a napkin. “I can tell you about mine, or would you rather have me wait, seeing as we’ll have plenty of time to talk later?” he asked, sitting in the chair across from Chris.

Chris paused; he’d almost forgotten that he and Topher shared a home. They’d have to share everything: a home, a job, and a life. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re so fake.”

“Excuse me?”

“Others don’t see it yet because they’re too busy gawking over you, but they will. And when they do, you’ll finally have to drop the ‘Saint Topher’ act.”

Perplexity grew across Topher’s face. “Chris, I’m not sure where this view you have of me came from, but you’re wrong. I really do just want to be friends with everyone. Even you.”

Chris jumped from his seat. “Oh, bullshit! Even me? Please, spare me. You’re just as annoyed with our ‘situation’ as I am!” 

“I’m really n–”

“You’re really gonna keep this up, huh?” Chris stomped over to Topher’s side of the table, “ How stupid do you think I am? You’re only acting like this for your own benefit, not out of some supposed kindness you have in your heart. It’s fake, Topher, and so are you! Lie to them, but you can’t lie to yourself.” Chris had leaned into Topher’s face at this point. 

Topher moved back and sighed, “I really don’t know what you want me to say. I’m just trying to make everything more bearable, so please stop!”

Just then, the break room door swung open. It was Sandra. Her face dropped. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Chris straightened himself, still managing to glare at Topher. “Well, Topher, is she?”

“….No, she’s not, Chris. Well, actually, I was planning on inviting everyone out to dinner tonight, so she’s right on time.” Topher re-enabled his kind-co-woker charm and grinned. Chris lunged at him.

“Hey!” Sandra, managing to get in between the two men, pushed Chris back.

“What the hell is your problem?! What’s going on here?!”

Trying to explain their own side, Chris and Topher’s overlapped to form a cacophony of words. It was like dealing with two children. Somehow, Sandra managed piece together what they were saying. 

“So, Chris, you’re upset because you feel like Topher is secretly selfish and is using charm to woo everyone in the office for his own self-benefit?”

“I wouldn’t say upset.”

“…And Topher, you feel like Chris has an unfair perspective of you.”

“I mean, yeah. We just met today.”

Sandra massaged her temples, pushed her hair back, and leaned against the counter. She motioned for Chris to sit back down. He did it, but made sure to grumble during the act.

“I wish I could say that I understand what you two are going through, but I don’t. Honestly, I still can’t wrap my head around there being two of you,” She took a deep breath, “ To have your brain and body split…Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard enough of that today.” Sandra repositioned herself; she seemed uncomfortable. “Your situation blows.”

“Well, thanks for telling us,” Chris jeered.

“It kind of does,” Topher said, genuinely.

“Because you were meant to be one person, maybe it made you both of you less…developed? Like your emotions are heightened because it’s all that you’ve been left with, respectively. Your brain has undeveloped itself, if that’s a better way to put it.” It wasn’t.

“So you think we’ll be stuck like this forever?” questioned Topher, who looked considerably put off.

“Sorry, I’m not really sure. If I’m being honest, I hope not. Christopher Jenkins was a jerk, and if the apocalypse hit, I’d sacrifice him first. But…I don’t know. I still consider him a friend. I guess I kinda miss the slimy bastard.” Sandra hung her head for a bit before looking back up, “I prefer you whole, Christopher. But you’re not, and that is what it is. The best you two can do is try to mature. Maybe you’ll coexist, maybe you won’t.” A small smile spread from her lips, “Maybe you’ll become whole in your own ways.” With that, Sandra pushed herself off the counter, patted both men on the shoulders, and left the breakroom. 

Neither Chris nor Topher spoke for a minute. Sandra had given them something to think about. How does someone become whole when you take away half of them? Is it like the starfish, where dismemberment only creates new organisms? Or is it more like trying to make the body function without its brain or heart? Can you ever be an individual if that individuality is partially given to someone else?  Chris glanced at Topher; he could tell they were finally thinking the same thing.

There can only be one.

*******

The time was 6 pm, and everyone had gone home for the night. Everyone except Chris and Topher, who volunteered to tidy up the office. It was an odd offer, but nobody cared much to challenge them on it. Chris and Topher stood on opposite ends of the main space.

“I wish it could’ve been different,” said Topher, “We could’ve had such a nice time.”

“That’s stupid. We’d never get along. You heard Sandra, we’d basically be conjoined twins in everything but physicality. I’m afraid this was a natural progression,”  Chris remarked. They had started pacing around the room, almost like a standoff.

“Are you sure, Chris? We never gave it a chance. For all we know, our separation is only temporary.”

“Do you feel temporary, Topher? ‘Cuz I sure don’t, and I refuse to live my life as your ‘other-half’. So let’s get on with it.” 

Topher gave a shaky sigh and nodded his head. Then, it began.

In an instant, Chris lunged toward Topher, knocking him to the ground. He set himself atop his doppleganger and swung wildly at his face, breaking his nose. Bruises formed on Topher instantaneously. Topher, rolling onto his side, knocked Chris to the ground. He then took his left leg and thrust it into Chris’s stomach, causing a loud UGH to erupt from his core. 

Topher attempted to jump up, but his leg had been caught by Chris. The messier man slammed Topher to the ground, propelled himself upward, and grabbed various writing tools from the desk beside him. With a swift motion, Chris jammed the assortment into Topher’s back, leaving a slightly shimmery blood to ooze from the man’s suit jacket. 

Chris walked toward the breakroom, presumably to find another object to stab into Topher when CRACK! Topher smashed a fire extinguisher in the back of Chris’s head. Blood dripped from the object and from Chris’s skull. However, this was not enough to deter the man; it just made him angrier.

Chris grappled onto Topher’s head, digging his nails into the skin of his face. White meat came to the surface.  The men swayed back and forth until Topher managed to grab a stapler from the desk behind him. With a swift CLACK, Topher hammered the stapler into Chris’s face. Pockets of shimmery blood crept down his temples and cheeks.

Topher, now free, sprinted toward the fire escape. He began to push open the door, but was met with a head slam. With the door partially open, Chris slammed it into Topher, over and over, until the man stopped moving. Chris paused. He bent down toward the man, just to be met with a right-leg sweep, knocking him to the ground. Topher maneuvered his way to the stairs, climbing up them one-by-one. He’d made it to the roof. Chris pursued.

The two men stood opposite each other for a few seconds. There was an uncertainty in the air. Their bloody clothes ruffled in the wind. Time was still. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet now,” Chris said mockingly, blood flowing from the back of his head to his neck. He spit.

Topher didn’t respond, however. He smiled weakly, his eye barely opened. That was enough for Chris. Chris ran toward the man once, grabbing him by his neck. His momentum not only crushed Topher’s windpipe but propelled both of them from the rooftop. There was a momentary silence, a nice silence, followed by a boisterous SPLAT.

On the ground lay a single body, limbs in all directions, bones pulverized. The body was positioned perfectly in front of the doors of Corcleft Inc., and would be left there for all to see in the morning. Still, it wasn’t perfect. A trail of blood led away from the body, and a silhouette limped beneath the street lights. There was only one.