Gently Vic’s fingers closed around the toothbrush’s handle, covering the other’s fingers. They felt real enough. But when he tried to pinch the skin, there was a minute pop!and the image vanished.
Vic was once again alone in the bathroom.
Moving back into position in front of the sink, Vic stared at his reflection in the mirror and tried to remember what he had thought or done to create the clone in the first place. In bed he’d wanted a sexual partner. Here he had wanted a towel. Gripping the counter with both hands, Vic thought clearly, I want to open the door
At first he didn’t know where to look. Then he saw it—a swirling mist on his left side, as if some astral part of him was being drawn off to form something new. He felt the same unnerving sensation again of turning within his skin without moving a muscle. As he watched, the mist coalesced and took form, grew solid, until an exact replica of himself stood beside him in the mirror.