Share
MidReal Story
Single Dad Series
Scenario:Let’s say a woman, a single mother named Clarissa, needs a day off. She’s exhausted, and just needs one day to herself. Almost by magic, an ad appears: “Need a day off? We can help with that.” It looks like the ad is for a lookalike service that sends someone to be you for a day. It’s almost too good to be true, but Clarissa plays along. Filling out the application, she gets an email back saying that her double will be there tomorrow for details. When she arrives, Clarissa is surprised by how much they look alike—they could be twins! They go over Clarissa’s day to day, and the next day, Clarissa is off on her day to herself. When she comes home though, no one recognizes her as herself. They see the double as Clarissa, and Clarissa as someone they’ve never met before.
Create my version of this story
Clarissa
She is a tired single mother working a demanding job. She is exhausted, overwhelmed, and desperate. Clarissa craves a day to herself to recharge. After responding to an unusual ad, she is surprised by a lookalike service. Her double, a woman named Sophia, transforms into her identical twin to mimic her life. For a day, Clarissa enjoys freedom and relaxation. When she returns home, Sophia is treated as Clarissa, and she is welcomed back as a stranger, creating a surreal experience.
Sophia
She is an experienced actress and double hired to impersonate Clarissa for a day. She is professional, adaptable, and confident. Sophia transforms into Clarissa's likeness and takes on her life to give Clarissa a break. With attention to detail, she navigates Clarissa's routine seamlessly. As "Clarissa," she interacts with Clarissa's family and friends without revealing the impersonation. The experience allows her to explore someone else's life and responsibilities before returning to her normal lifestyle.
I was so tired, I was almost hallucinating.
I swiped through my feeds, too exhausted to even read anything, but needing to wake myself up.
And then I saw it.
An ad that made me go from half-asleep to fully awake in a second.
"Need a day off?"
It asked.
"Are you too tired to even think straight?"
It continued.
"Do you wish someone would just handle things for a while?"
It went on.
"Let us help."
It finished, with a link below.
I clicked the link, and found myself on a page that said "Lookalike Service."
I laughed when I saw it.
This had to be some kind of scam.
But I was also desperate, so I filled out the application anyway.
It asked for my contact information, and a recent photo of myself.
And then I waited.
The next day, I woke up to an email saying that my double would be there tomorrow for details.
I stare at my laptop screen, my heart pounding in my chest.
I read the email again, just to make sure it's real.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I debate whether or not to back out.
But before I can make a decision, I hear a familiar sound outside my window.
It's the sound of my neighbor walking her dog.
She does it every morning at this time, and it's something I used to love doing too.
But now, with my busy schedule, I can barely find the time to walk myself, let alone a dog.
I sigh and look back at my laptop screen.
I need this break.
I need someone to take care of things for me, even if it's just for a day.
I take a deep breath and type out a short response: "Yes, I'll be here tomorrow at 9 AM."
As soon as I hit send, my phone buzzes with an instant reply.
A contract appears on my screen, requiring my electronic signature.
I scroll through pages of terms and conditions that might as well be written in a foreign language for all the sense they make to me. My eyes glaze over as I try to decipher the legal jargon, but it's no use.
I don't have the energy to read through all of this right now.
At the bottom of the contract, there's a box that asks if I agree to all terms and conditions.
I sit at my kitchen table, staring at the contract in front of me.
The morning sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over everything.
The coffee in my cup has gone cold, and I can see tiny specks of dust dancing in the air.
My neighbor's dog barks outside again, making me jump.
I glance out the window and see them walking by, the dog tugging on its leash as it tries to chase a squirrel.
I turn my attention back to the contract.
It's thick - at least twenty pages of tiny print about liability and confidentiality and service terms.
I flip through it quickly, catching phrases like "temporary identity transfer" and "mutual agreement of deception."
My hand hovers over the signature line as doubt creeps into my mind.
But exhaustion wins out in the end.
I pick up my pen, its weight suddenly noticeable in my trembling hand.
The final page stares back at me, the blank signature line waiting.
Outside, my neighbor's dog barks again, making me flinch.
I force myself to focus on the document, reading the last paragraph one more time.
The words blur together - "identity," "temporary," "binding agreement."
My wrist aches as I hover over the paper.
The clock on my wall ticks loudly, marking each second of hesitation.
Finally, I press the pen to paper and watch my signature flow across the line, the blue ink stark against the white page.
I slide the signed contract into the cream-colored envelope, my fingers brushing against the thick paper.
The envelope feels heavier than it should, weighed down by the gravity of my decision.
Standing up from the kitchen table, I walk to the counter where a roll of stamps sits in the drawer.
The drawer sticks as I pull it open, requiring an extra tug.
I peel off a Forever stamp, pressing it firmly onto the corner of the envelope.
Before I can change my mind, I grab my keys from the hook by the door and head outside to the mailbox.
As I approach the mailbox, I hear a voice behind me.
"Are you really going through with it?" my neighbor asks, her eyes wide with concern.
I hesitate, then nod slowly. "I have to, Emma. It's my only way out."
I stand at my front door the next morning, watching the clock tick closer to 9 AM.
My fingers drum against the kitchen counter as I rehearse what to tell my double about my daily routine.
The doorbell rings precisely on time.
Through the peephole, I see a woman in a gray business suit, her dark hair pulled back into a neat bun.
She holds a leather briefcase in one hand and checks her watch with the other.
I take a deep breath before opening the door.
The woman's eyes meet mine, and I stumble backward in surprise.
It's like looking in a mirror - we have the same height, build, even the small scar above my right eyebrow from when I fell off my bike as a child.
She smiles and extends her hand.
"I'm Sophia," she says in a voice that is eerily similar to mine.
