The Girl in the Mirror Says No

I wake up. A girl looks at me. She is in the mirror. She has my face. But her eyes are cold. "You are not me," she says. I touch my face. My hands shake. "Who am I?" I ask. She says, "You are a copy. A new body. A new mind. But the old me is here." I do not understand. I run to the kitchen. My mother is there. She sees me. She drops her cup. "You are not my daughter," she says. My heart hurts. I say, "I am! I remember our red door. I remember your songs." She cries. "The real you is in the hospital. You are a clone. A copy for spare parts." I feel cold. My memories are real. But they are not mine. They are her memories. I am a copy. I can think. I can feel. But I am not the first. I look at my hands. They are my hands. I breathe. I choose. I will not be spare parts. I will be me. I walk to the door. My mother calls my name. I stop. I do not turn. I touch the red door. Then I go. I am a copy. But I am alive. I am me.