In the heart of Arborvale stood the centerpiece of Redwood Park: an upright red metallic ring tall enough for a person to walk through. Nobody knew where it came from. Local lore claimed it predated the town itself. The Elders said it had always been here, that passing through it swapped you with an almost identical version of yourself from a parallel universe.

I’d never believed it. Until the day I, Mason, stepped through.

I’d had a fight with Elena—sharp, stupid, and unresolved. Frustrated, I came to the park, hoping the fresh air would clear my head. Redwood Park was lively that morning. Kids chased each other through the grass, squirrels darted between trees, and a few brave crows hopped suspiciously close to picnickers. The ring stood quietly at the park’s center, but the moment I raised my arm toward its edge, the hum began—a low, resonant vibration that seemed to thrum through the ground, into my chest.

I hesitated. Then I stepped through.

The hum grew deafening—then stopped. My stomach flipped, and everything felt slightly off. The park looked the same, but the air was cooler, the sky a sharper blue. I turned to look at the ring. It gleamed brighter, as if freshly polished.

Then I saw him—me. He froze as our eyes locked.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice tight.

He smirked. “I think you already know.” Without another word, he stepped through the ring and vanished.

The hum flared briefly, then silence.

I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling. The lock screen read: "Welcome back, Harold."

Harold? My heart raced.

I checked my contacts. Elena wasn’t there. My photos—family, friends—were all wrong. My reflection in the phone’s screen was mine, yet not. The ring still shimmered behind me, but did I dare step back through?