My eyes struggle to stay open as I huddle in the very back row of my classroom. The lecturer drones on in his monotone voice, trying to draw our attention front and centre to his impressive PowerPoint presentation. The content is important, and I should be listening. A part of me should definitely be taking notes, but a combination of exhaustion and information overload has my mind fogged over. At this point, the lecturer may as well be speaking another language. I squint at the screen, deciding it must be Pig Latin as the slide dissolves into pixels. Watch out; someone knows how to animate slide transitions.

A yawn escapes me for the umpteenth time, and I wonder if I'm setting some kind of Guinness World Record for yawns per second. Surely my YPS's must be up there. Grimly, I wonder if that'll be the only record I ever achieve. This is my third week at this whole working full-time and studying at night thing, and I'm persuaded I'll die of sleep deprivation or have a mental breakdown before escaping minimum wage.

When class ends, a collective sigh of relief escapes the room. Finally, my heavy exhale blows against my blonde fringe as I quickly shove my fresh notepad into my bag. Following the mass of bodies, we all seem just as eager to escape. Emerging out of the TAFE building, the crowd disperses, scattering off into the night like sprites at sunrise. A light rain welcomes me as I wade outside, and I realise that, of course, my umbrella's still leaning against my work desk.

Checking my watch, I discover it's 9:28 pm and groan aloud. Damn it! I'll never make the train in time. Lately, it seems, I'm running late for everything.

Dashing through the drizzle, I swiftly make my way to the train station through the dodgiest part of town. The loveliest thing about Northbridge is that even in wet weather, the pungent smell of urine still permeates the air.

Safely under the station's canopy, my sodden dress clings to me as I sit down on a metallic bench. The cold metal bites the backs of my legs, making me shiver, but at least the rain and my scurry through town has woken me up. The same can't be said for the homeless man sleeping on the other end of the bench.

I fish my phone out of my bag and fiddle with the device; it's completely dead. Of course. With nothing else to do, I stare at the departure clock, which annoyingly informs me there's a 25-minute wait for the next train. My stomach whines and I silently pray to any god listening that my leftovers are untouched when I get home. Shayne, my flatmate, has an awful habit of eating my food. Labels may as well be written in the same language as my lecturer's slideshow. It's gotten so bad I've taken to hiding things in the vegetable crisper under bags of wilted spinach, but surely that won't last long. If only I could afford my own place, but that won't happen anytime soon. Without my phone to distract me, I pull my notepad, flicking towards my hastily scribbled budget on the back page.

Another day, another dollar. Or so they say. But each dollar of mine seems to have another two places to go. I strike a bold line through another item on my list. Cancel Youtube Premium. At this rate, I definitely won't afford a car or my own apartment anytime soon. The bills are mounting, and I've barely saved up enough for a house bond, let alone a car. Whoever said adulting was easy is either a trust-fund baby or clearly on something.

Speaking of trust fund babies. I frown as something shifts in my peripheral; looking up, a girl with matching blonde bangs walks past. Her clothes are much nicer, and she takes a seat on the bench diagonally across from me. I huff as she stares intently at her phone, which obscures her face. Well, of course, her phone's charged.

After gazing down again at the angry-looking budget, a shuffling sound startles me. I'm greeting my two brown eyes, the whites of which are tinged in yellow. Other than observing the colour, my first thought is they're close, much too close for comfort. Gripping my pen tightly, I hold it up like I'm brandishing a weapon, and my notebook clatters to the tiled floor of the station.

"Hey girlie," The homeless man licks his chapped lips and reaches over with gnarled hands as I cringe away. I whip my head around, hoping to set sights on transit guards or some burly dude. But of course, the platforms deserted other than me, my new friend and the blonde. That's typical Perth City for you, most weeknights after 9 pm, and it's a bloody ghost town.

"Hey, mister, I huh... don't want any trouble," I raise my pen higher and wonder if he even heard. The strange gleam in his eye, it's as if he regards me as lunch, which is ironic because judging by the food crumbs in his wiry beard and his burger breath, even he's had dinner. I'm much too hangry for this...

"What are you going to do? Stab me with a pen?" He gruffly chortles, and I realise my ridiculousness, but shrug my shoulders anyway. The pen is mightier than the sword; just you watch me.

"Something like that..." I begin to say when a shrill voice cuts me off. 

"Hey!" The blonde girl, a few benches down, swiftly approaches us. "Leave her alone you..." Whatever the nasty name this girl had on the tip of her tongue dries up abruptly. I look up to see why she stopped talking and freeze. What the hell? My eyes bulge at the sight before me.

"What was in that fucking shit...I'm hallucinating." The man mumbles to himself, and I see in my peripheral as he shakily stands before lurching away from us. But my gaze remains locked on the girl before me. My breath hitches in my throat as the picture of my reflection stares back at me. It's no mirror but a girl with the same face and body shape. She's wearing different clothes and not soaking wet, but other than that, our features are strikingly similar.

Before I know it, she's taking a seat next to me and shaking my hand.

"Oh wow! We look so similar. This is just freaky! I'm Elsie. Elsie Stewart," she says chirpily. I notice straight away that her voice sounds more high pitched than mine.

"You can say that again; it's like gazing into a mirror! I'm Kyra. Kyra McKay," My voice sounds shaky even to me.

"It's so nice to meet you, Kyra." I agree, nodding my head stupidly at her words. "What the hell? Even our eyes are the same colour!" she says excitedly, making me realise they're the same hazel colour. "So tell me all about yourself. How old are you? What do you do for work?"

"I'm twenty years old. I work as an Office Clerk while studying part-time."

"No way! I'm 20 too though I'm turning 21 next month." OK, so that rules out us being twins. "So, What are you studying?" she asks with genuine attention before I can interrogate her about her birthday.

"Um, Residential Drafting. What about you?"

"Oh, wow!" she exclaims as if she's impressed; I find her enthusiasm infectious. "I'm an H.R. officer at a recruitment company in the City."

Elsie and I prattle away for the full 15-minutes until our train arrives. I've never chatted to a stranger at the train station before, besides the repetitive drawl of 'No, I don't have a cigarette or spare change'. She takes a seat next to me on the train, and we continue our easy conversation before I inform her my stop is next. Elsie's face fleetingly sinks like she's disappointed I'm leaving. But then she smiles as an idea pops into her head.

"We should exchange numbers," she exclaims excitedly. I hold up my lifeless phone to prove that I'm not snubbing her offer and give her my number. The train starts to slow as the robotic-sounding recording calls out my station. Elsie stands up as I do and surprises me with a hug. "We'll talk soon, Kyra." We smile the same smile at each other and wave goodbye as I alight at my station.

I trudge the short distance home through the rain, but despite the horrid weather, my face wears a smile. Something about making a new friend has me feeling giddy. My shyness and awkwardness usually make it hard for me to communicate with strangers, but Elsie's face is so similar to my reflection that I find it comforting and familiar. Unlocking the front door, I step inside, and that's when the excitement dies.

Shayne, my slob of a housemate, is sprawled out on the couch asleep, and worse yet, a sea of empty Chinese containers surround the coffee table. I stamp my foot like a petulant three-year-old, 'the Chinese left-overs were meant to be my dinner'. To top it all off, she's streaming a show I've been watching, making me lose my place. Viciously grabbing the remote, I turn off the television before she can spoil anything. Then, huffing angrily, I fish out a frozen pizza from the freezer and put it in the oven.

After the oven door is slammed a bit harder than necessary, I head to our combined bathroom/laundry and shrug off my wet clothes, dumping them straight in the laundry hamper and jump in the shower — the hot water beads down, washing away some of my frustration. Shayne's thoughtlessness is reaching new levels lately. I usually try not to dwell too much on her failings as a housemate, but pushing aside my passive-aggressiveness will probably lead to one of my colossal melt-downs.

My mind drifts to Elsie; she seemed so confident and comfortable in her own skin. What kind of 5'4 female confronts a strange man harassing someone at a train station. She's got cajones; I'll give her that. I've known her an incredibly short time, but something tells me she would react very differently to what I just came home to. I feel like she would wake Shayne up and yell at her. I wish I were like that. Fleetingly I wonder if she will message me after all.

After my shower, I put my phone on charge and power it on. I'm towel drying my hair as I hear it buzzing. Looking down, an unsaved number has messaged me.

*Hi Babe, so lovely meeting you! Want to grab a coffee tomorrow morning before work? xo Elsie*

*Hi Elsie, lovely meeting you too. Yes, I'll be in the City around 7:30. Does that work for you?*

*Geez, you wake up early, girl! I'll be there but can't guarantee I'll be awake lol. Want to go to Picassos? xo*

*Sounds good. I love the coffee there!*

*Me too! See you tomorrow morning, babe xo*

I text Elsie goodnight and lie on the bed, grinning my head off. The nervous excitement is back, and I'm eager for a tomorrow morning like never before. The mystery of my look-a-like is beyond intriguing. What if we're secretly related? Or better yet, what if we can trade places?

~

Author's note: Hi all, I'm finally doing a re-write of Double Take... I always find the intro chapters the hardest. UGH. Well, if anyone's reading, I hope this finds you well and thank you. Sending my broken love your way. x