S he had found this card in the street, on her way to her dance class. It stood out on the dark and damp asphalt because it was raining that day. She had found it, brand new, the plastic perfectly intact despite the bad weather. (It was November) You would think that this student was at the beginning of her university career... Because she was indeed a student, judging by the acronym of the Paul Sabatier University that accompanied the... Photo.

Suddenly, her gaze froze. It remained stuck on this photo. This face was more than familiar to her... Because, in fact, it was hers. She recognized herself, but ten years younger ! Yes, it was her, with that dull and sullen face (it was forbidden to smile in identity photos) She recognized trait for trait the very angular shape of her chin, her crow's feet at the corners of her almond-shaped eyes as well as her own nose, trumpet-shaped, which had already earned her very nice nicknames like "pig" or "piggy"...

She scrutinized the photo, simply not believing it. Was it a hoax ? It was impossible that it was her own face on this student card, her who had already completed her geography studies 8 years ago... No need to say that she was far from still being a student ! She scrutinized the photo a little more closely, awkwardly kneading the plastic of the card, to find the detail, the thing that could have put her on the trail of a rational explanation... It was her... Without being her.

This Aleksandra Malinski was her double, her lookalike judging by her facial features perfectly similar to hers. She seemed to be wearing a blouse that had nothing to do with anything she could have worn... She was probably a medical student, by the way it must be said that there were many opportunities in this field given the shortage of doctors in the French countryside ! Foreign hands were needed !

To tell the truth, she knew nothing about the economic situation of Slavic countries, nor about their culture. Her culture was the one of freedom, art and dance ! A progressive culture of a Western country. She didn't give a shit about science, she only used to trust her  intuition, and navigate through existence like a fish, according to the fluctuations of her emotions and an imagination always in effervescence... She had this capacity to join others in what they would feel, but by the senses, yes by the senses and their aesthetics. She knew how to penetrate their minds but by empathy, not by means of rational calculations and other pragmatic reasoning. In short, she joined these souls in the most natural and spontaneous way possible. She was an artist and had nothing to do with this Aleksandra...

But now her thoughts are racing in her head and she is developing a sort of aversion towards someone she doesn't even know ! Which is completely incoherent, given the situation, certainly, that disturbs her a lot. But who is this person, to resemble her so much ? Even the expression of her look is the same. A look a little melancholic and sweet at the same time. A deep look. It's as if she is already jealous of this person...

She stuffed the card into her purse. She was late now. She had been examining the card from every angle for a quarter already. She had been tempted to put the card back where she had found it, in the middle of the street, to forget this more than bizarre episode and continue her life as if nothing had happened, as if no flaw in the matrix had ever existed... But she couldn't help but keep the card, as if her intuition had whispered to her that she wouldn't leave it at that, advising her to keep it... 

And this intuition proved right, because the next minute she received a call from a landline on her phone.

- Miss Malinski? 

At that name, she didn't know what to say. She simply remained speechless at the other end of the line. Was it a hoax? 

- Miss Malinski? The voice asked again sententiously, seeing no answer coming... 

She hung up mechanically, feeling as if she was trapped. But how had they gotten her number ? And why was she called by the same name as the one on that cursed card ? Was she going to wake up with a jolt from a bad nightmare at any moment ? It was definitely time for this bad joke to end ! She threw the card in the trash with rage, this card that had already made her waste precious time and that had already sown so much confusion in her... She rushed to the premises where her dance class was taking place. But when she showed up, the access was denied.

The chip in the card she presented at the entrance no longer worked. In fact, the machine no longer recognized her identity and emitted a shrill, alerting sound, as if a serious fraud had been committed. Serena no longer understood anything about her own existence. Why had that voice on the phone called her Aleksandra Malinski ? She glanced at her phone book to discover with horror that they now all contained Slavic names. Russian or perhaps Polish, she had no idea. No trace of her parents, not even of her friends or colleagues anymore… It was as if she had disappeared from the radar screens. But who was she really ? In a fit of fury, she retraced her steps to retrieve the card from the trash. And on the way, passing the tall mirrors of a hair salon, she caught the eye of a young woman in her twenties whose face was very familiar.