She was playing with the mist. She made balls of smoke and rolled them into the denser mist. Then, she would go in looking for the ball. Each time when she came out with the ball she realized that it was not the ball she had rolled inside. And so, she understood that someone else was playing the same game from some other corner of the mist.

She decided to go looking for her playmates. She walked deeper into the mist and came out of some other corner. There was no one present but a few more balls of smoke waited for her. She kept down the ball she had in her hand and picked up another ball. Then, she looked around. Still there was no one to be found.

So, she turned around and started returning to the corner from where she had started. But when she had crossed the mist she found that she had come out of some other corner. And there were more balls over here.

She couldn't decide which one to pick up.

Labels: corner, fiction, flash fiction, identity, mist, philosophy, short story, smoke, story, surreal