Mirror Apartment and the Oat Milk Stranger

Mirror Apartment and the Oat Milk Stranger

I was walking back to my apartment after grocery shopping, but when I unlocked the front door, everything inside was laid out in mirror reverse. The couch was on the left, the kitchen counter was stainless steel instead of laminate, and a woman I've never seen before was setting the table like she lived there. She looked up, smiled, and asked if I'd picked up the oat milk, calling me by my actual name. I checked my phone to call my partner, but my contact list was completely full of people I didn't recognize, except for my high school chemistry teacher who had a work title next to his name. I kept backing out into the hallway, trying to explain there had been a mix-up, but the number on my apartment door was clearly 4B. The overwhelming feeling wasn't terror, just this deep, disorienting panic that I had stepped into the wrong version of my Tuesday and couldn't find the right hallway back.