Just then, a man walking on the sidewalk in the opposite direction draws her eye. Sunil? she thinks, frozen in a breathless moment. His features stun her: his tall, broad frame; his deep complexion; his chocolate brown coat, black toque, and woollen mitts. All identical to Sunil’s.

Blinded by impulse, she pulls the bell and leaps off the bus. Back-tracking at a trot, she weaves through the crowded sidewalk, desperately trying to catch up with the doppelganger. While she’s lost in the waking dream of it all, the man isn’t a just double—he is Sunil.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she says to the other pedestrians. She rams into one man so hard he spills his coffee, a cappuccino-coloured Rorschach blot all over the snowy sidewalk. She apologizes but doesn’t stop her single-minded pursuit.

After another block, she relents, out of breath, the cold air burning her throat and lungs. She has lost track of the man. Only when a stranger nudges her in passing does she waken up from the spell, disoriented, as if drugged. Embarrassed, she shrinks into the anonymity of her hood, and marches to a bus stop farther down the street, a neutral spot, where no one has witnessed her temporary delirium.

She smokes a cigarette to hush her nerves. He looked so much like you, she tells Sunil. I was convinced. Or had she seen what she wanted? Will she ever stop looking for him? Ever stop expecting the nightmare to end?

She rides another bus to the coffee shop. Despite the unexpected tangent, she still arrives on time. As she steps into the warm café, careful not to slip on the puddle on the tiles, she peers around. A few tables are still unoccupied. But there is no sign of Chi.

Kavita takes her place in line behind a few other patrons and reads the festive specials off the chalkboard hanging behind the register: Spice up your life with a hot cider! Get into the ho-ho-holiday spirit with an eggnog latte!

Is that all it takes? she wonders. She orders a gingerbread latte and settles into a coveted corner table by the front windows, a deep loveseat and armchair oriented for conversation. As she sips her saccharine drink, she observes a steady commotion of passersby through the snowflake-decaled window. Some people carry shopping bags with them, decorated in a variety of seasonal motifs—reindeer, snowflakes, Santa Claus. Somehow, Christmas is only a few weeks away. Where has the time gone? Where has she been?

She gazes inwardly, searching herself for an answer. But she doesn’t know. Not where she has been, or where she is now, or where she is going. When she looks inside, all she finds are things she would rather not see.