National Short Story Day

To celebrate National Short Story Day here in the UK, I thought I'd share a short story with you. If I'd planned it better, I could have written a nice Christmas story, but as it is, here's one I wrote earlier...

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One of those damn annoying things
that happen on a Friday lunch time

I was walking through a revolving door into a local hotel where I was meeting someone very important, and met myself coming the other way.
       I nodded civilly, and proceeded into the building, checking my watch and smoothing creases from my suit. Half way to Reception, I realised who I’d just seen. I turned in disbelief, pausing for a second to query myself; then raced back through the door in pursuit. Outside, I looked left and right, standing on tip-toes to peer above the heads of passers-by, but I couldn’t see myself; a swarm of dark-suited people masked my escape. Despondent, I gave up and turned on my heel to face the building. And saw myself on the other side of the door.
       I stood immobile, jostled by scurrying secretaries and map-gazing tourists; for it was lunch time and very busy. I peered cautiously through the glass, in case I was mistaken, and saw myself peering back. I shuffled into the door and, immediately, my other self stepped in as well. (Or, he stepped in first and I followed.)
       “Hello,” I said as we began walking in circles. “How do you do?”
       “Very well. And you?”
       “Very well, thank you.”
       I paused, unsure of the etiquette. “May I ask you something?” I asked, timorously.
       “Of course,” I answered.
       “What is my greatest achievement?” This subject has mystified me for years, being highly successful in the majority of my endeavours; I was grateful at the prospect of another perspective.
       I watched myself deliberating. We walked silently, hands linked behind our back, head dipped watching our feet plodding on the red carpet. I observed several people – inside the building and out – watching; and I wondered how absurd this spectacle must appear.
       But there was no answer from my remarkable companion.
       “Well,” I said after we’d turned a little longer, feeling rather dizzy and a little irritated, “what has been my greatest achievement?”
       “The problem is,” I pondered, astounded by my insight, “the question is impossible to answer. I cannot tell you what your greatest achievement is. That’s something you have to discover for yourself.”
       “But,” I said swiftly, “you are me: I am you. We’ve had exactly the same experiences, and achieved the same things.”
       “My achievements might be different to yours.”
       “But we are one person, we are the same person,” I stressed, feeling my grasp on this conversation slowly sliding from me.
       “Possibly,” I answered. “But you’ll never really know for sure.” I half-smiled with smug self-assurance, and became acutely aware of my defects as other people see them.
       “But, you look like me” – not able to move past this point – “you have my voice, my expressions and mannerisms. How are you not me?”
       But by the time I had formulated the question in my mind, and formed the words and spoken them aloud, I was alone in the revolving door, walking around and around.