My alter-ego sits across from me at breakfast while I slowly chew on my pancakes amidst the busy blur of the diner around me. She doesn’t like pancakes, says their an aquired taste, like key lime pie.

“I hate key lime pie,” I say.

You just don’t like eating things that are green, she argues.

“So what if I only eat certain colours,” I grumble back, pushing my glasses as they slide down.

You know you don’t need those, they’re only fake, she sneers.

“I just like the way I look in them,” I defend cheerfully picking at my plate.

You know people are going to think you are talking to yourself right? She laughs.

“All the more reason for me to be an eccentric curiosity,” I say with a shrug.

Are you going to finish those? She says making a pass at my plate.

“I thought you…” I start.

I may be an alter-ego, but I still get hungry, she says nibbling.

Well, it was nice seeing you but I really should go, she says as she gets up to go.

And then its just me and the pancakes.