“Get off my bag. Quit copying my look.”
“No *you’re* copying *my* look.” Snickers all around before parting.
Mr. Z, aka A.B. Normal, paused at the top of the bridge, realizing he had encountered his own doppleganger heading in the opposite direction: toward that island storm. He could fully see him now as a 3 dimensional person and not mere flat illusion, but it was too late. “Careful in your journeys, mister!” he decided to call as the other continued down the far side. “I’ll be alright!” came the more distant reply, also knowing what the other was thinking as he started to smell the rain and ozone.