I thought I saw you the other day. The details were all there; the gait, the color of hair and its style, the build, and tone of the flesh. I had to do a double-take, and then another two or three after that, just to be sure.
There were differences, of course. That's the way of it. No tattoos. The scars that you carved into your legs and arms on those neurotic nights weren't there. The eyes, slightly concealed behind spectacles, were different. Not the look of a feral dog, but of someone just trying to get where they were going.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't you, and I don't know how I would've reacted if it was. Hopefully, that unintentional doppelganger is as close I'll ever get.