I loved working at summer markets.
There was something energizing about the buzz of patrons as they browsed the stalls, asking questions and making purchases beneath the clear, blue sky. Time slowed at these events, the summer heat making everyone wander as if they had no other care in the world, and I loved watching them from beneath my white canopy.
Today was no different, and I lazily sipped my lemonade as people passed my booth. Some paused, intrigued by the vibrant photos on display, and asked about their origins.
“Oh, I take them around the city. Most of them are downtown, but a few are from the surrounding countryside.”
That satisfies their curiosity, and occasionally I’ll gain a bonus history lesson about a location in particular, but they always move on eventually.
That was, until she arrived.
Clouds had moved in, bringing a thankfully cooler breeze to the market and fluttering my wares, and I was busy securing them when she approached. She had long, dark hair and wore a white summer dress, but something about her seemed off- like she wasn’t quite real. Still, I smiled and gave my usual “Welcome! See anything you like?”
She nodded, her eyes fixated on a large photo of an abandoned house.
“Where did you take this?”
I glanced at the photo, then nodded.
“It’s an abandoned farmhouse about ten miles outside city limits. I heard about it from a friend, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to capture it.” She didn’t respond, and I took it from its position and slid it to her. “Do you know it?”
“Yes,” she said quietly as she cradled the image in her hands. “That’s the house I died in.”
Surely I didn’t hear that right, and I blinked as I stared at her.
“You…died there?”
She nodded, and a gust of wind tore through the market and threatened to topple my display. I hurried to secure my other photos as she stared at the house, a thin smile on her lips.
“It was a beautiful death- full of passion and remorse. I could show you, if you want.”
Her eyes turned to me, and my stomach dropped as I saw how cloudy they were. Chills ran up my spine, and I swallowed hard as I turned away and busied myself with the display.
“No, thank you. However, if you’d like to keep the photo, I’ll give it to you for free.”
I turned back to get her answer, but the lady was gone. The photo lay on the table, the only evidence of a visitor being two small fingerprints on the glass where her thumbs pressed against it.
I looked around nervously, but the market remained unchanged. The sky had returned to a cloudless blue, and waves of heat once again pressed against the canopy. However, the goosebumps along my arm told me that my encounter wasn’t a hallucination, and I shivered as I picked up the photo and tucked it into my wagon, where it could rest out of sight.As the day wore on, I eventually shook off the strange encounter and ended the market with a sizable profit and promised to return the next month with new images. As I packed up to go, I remembered the photo and pulled it carefully from the wagon so I could add it to the rest of the unsold wares. However, my body went cold again as I gazed at the familiar image.

Right above the front porch, in a window I knew was empty before, stood a long-haired woman in a white sundress.

And she looked like me.