Melancholy in the Multiverse

 

It was late afternoon when the shimmer occurred, walking down my favorite fiction aisle in our local library, framed by rows and rows of books.

My head was down and my thoughts were exploring various possibilities that only existed between my two ears.  I suddenly felt very wobbly.

My perception was that the bookshelves on either side of me were extending in either direction an absurdly long distance.  I was utterly alone.

But not quite alone.  I sensed movement in the two aisles adjacent to me, one to the left and one to the right.  It took me a moment to reorient.

Peering to the left I saw myself or someone nearly identically so with his head down and a pained somber look, prematurely aged, defeated almost.

I turned away to my right and peered through the books on that side.  Again, a doppelgänger but this one with a bright and cheery countenance.

What decisions had they made to be here?  More importantly, what decisions had I made?  I seemed to be literally and figuratively between the two.

To myself on the left I felt compelled to reach through the stacks and give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, maybe a squeeze of encouragement.

To myself on the right I wanted to crawl through the space and sit at his feet to learn how he had found his peace, his joy, his apparent contentment.

The shimmer returned but this time it was the from the welling up of tears.  I rubbed my eyes vigorously and then the crown of my head to self soothe.

I once again found myself alone in the finite space of books which tell tales of struggles and triumphs in a life of things both chosen and unchosen.  

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