Shalom.

I know it's not the rain that woke me up because I find myself falling asleep to the rain more often than not. So, I open one bleary eye and reach for the light. My arm misses the switch by a couple of inches, and I fall headfirst onto the pillow. I notice by the light of the pale moon streaming in through my window, that my bedside clock reads 2:30 AM. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, and squint at the window. There is an unmistakable bulge in the curtains, something that looks out of place here, in the serenity of my bedroom. There is a huge china ashtray on my study table, with a few spent cigarette butts inside it. I am startled by its presence because I don't smoke. Yet.

I proceed cautiously towards the window and yank at the pullstring. I stifle a tiny scream, as I see the dim outline of a man in a suit. As he turns to face me, I see that an unlit cigarette dangles precariously from the corner of his lips. His suit is well-tailored and he is clean-shaven.

'Hello, I have been waiting to meet you, you genetically-tainted bastard. Lovely weather, no?', he says.

As the moonlight hits his profile, I collapse to the ground.

He looks like me. Talks like me. Is me.