I was walking home from my office one January evening. It was a Monday.
The weather was very cold, and there were some low clouds around the tops
of the buildings. Once I"d left the main road, there weren"t many people in
the dark, narrow streets of Budapest"s Thirteenth District. Everything was
very quiet. It felt as if the city was waiting for something.
As I walked I thought about what had happened at work. I had argued with
one of the Hungarians I worked with. It was the first serious problem since
I"d arrived. I was trying to think what to do about it, and I was also hoping
that my wife, Andrea, had made one of her nice hot soups for dinner.
After about five minutes it started to snow heavily, so that the streets were
soon completely white. As I was walking along a very dark part of one street
there was the noise of a door shutting loudly inside a building. Then I heard
the sound of someone running.
Suddenly, the street door opened and a man came out of it and ran straight
into me. I fell over into the snow, shouting something like, "Hey, watch
where you"re going!" - my words were loud in the empty street. The man
turned to look at me for a moment. "Sorry," he said very quietly, in
Hungarian, before walking quickly away.
What I saw at that moment, in that dark winter street was very strange, and
I felt very afraid. Because what I saw was me. My face looking down at me.
My mouth saying sorry.

Adapted from:

How I Met Myself,David A. Hil,Cambridge Readers,Published January 2002.

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