“So Denise…” Tracy began.
“Yeah?” the younger woman asked. She looked almost hungry. Tracy wondered if the whole room smelled like sex.
Tracy blushed. Her next few sentences could end her up in the loony bin for sure. Or worse, a long, bizarre talk with HR. “How long have you worked here?”
“5 weeks, about. Why?”
“Do you know my name, by any chance?”
Denise’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “You’re acting weird. Even for a girl who jilled off at work. You’re Tracy Mulligan, least that’s what the little metal thingy on your desk says."
“Does the name Trent Muller mean anything to you? What about Kirsten Hannigan?"
Denise thought for a moment. “No? Why? Is this some sort of ‘Doppelganger steals my life thing,’ like in those trashy magazines?”
“Not exactly. I’m going to say a bunch of crazy shit now, and I need you to believe me.”
“What If I don’t?”
“Then forget I said anything! But listen, it all started when I put on this ring…” Tracy slipped the ring off her finger.