The unusual time conceives the error.

"That knot in your stomach, you feel it," my clone said. We were holed up in a hotel in downtown Cleveland. I knew this knot well. "That's the girl at the counter, the receptionist. That's her tattoos all jumping about in your gut. You feel it."

"I didn't like their shirts. They looked like they were working at Subway. This is a nice hotel. At least I thought it was."

"Forget her shirt. What about the ink?"

"There was an egg one." Maybe a dinosaur egg? You can't pull back from the big paradox when you're in it. "I'm gonna go get beer."

"What else?"

"Do you not want beer? It would be good to go for a walk. It stopped raining."

"There wasn't any egg but something egg-shaped."

"Pretty sure it was an egg. She was overweight." I picked up the keycard on the desk. I imagined the tattoo hatching several baby dragons and I could see them fly up her bicep.

"You want beer or not?"

"Can you please go talk to her? She liked you."