Until We Met Again ( Rowan and Johnson )
Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Several days had passed when, just as the workday was

winding down, Karla received a call from the evidence room. They’d found something intriguing and urged her to come take a look.

Upon arrival, an officer handed her an old photograph, explaining, “We found this tucked inside a CD album case. Missed it at first glance. Take a look at this photo and see if anything seems off.”

Karla took the photo, now sealed in a plastic bag. Its edges were tinged with age, but the image was clear.

The setting was indoors, with a distinct style from the last century. A man in a white shirt sat on an antique sofa, legs crossed, cradling a white cat in his arms. His gentle gaze peered through gold–rimmed glasses, his features elegant and refined, exuding both nobility and scholarly charm.

Behind him stood a woman. She wore a sharp trench coat, much like a bodyguard. Arms folded, her lips curled in a sly, playful smirk, and her eyes sparkled brilliantly.

Karla blinked, unsure if it was just her imagination, but she felt an uncanny familiarity with the woman, as if she had seen her somewhere before.

Noticing Karla’s puzzled look, the male officer chuckled, “Officer Karla, don’t you think that woman bears a striking resemblance to you?”

“Huh? Oh my goodness, she does!” Karla peered closer, shocked at the likeness–it was

uncanny.

The officer suggested, “You should take this photo and look into it, Officer Karla. It might just help you identify the victim.”

Karla studied the photo intently, her brow furrowing with concentration. She wasn’t naive enough to think the woman in the photo was actually her, but she was perplexed. How could someone look so much like her?

If this woman were still alive, she’d probably be quite elderly by now, wouldn’t she?

After thanking the officer, Karla took the photo and drove home to the house she shared with her parents. Their biggest worry was her marital status, always prodding about when she planned to settle down. Karla found it tiresome, to say the least.

Sure, she was 27 and had never dated, but she was no slouch. Confident in her looks and her capabilities, she wasn’t concerned about replaceing a partner.

Every time she brushed off their concerns, her parents would nod in understanding, only to follow up with, “So when do you think you’ll be ready? We can start looking around for you, you know?”

Karla would surrender the conversation, no longer wanting to discuss it.

19:031

That evening, after a soothing bath, she lay in bed, unable to take her eyes off the photograph. The more she looked, the more she was convinced the woman was her. The posture and expression were all too familiar. She even had a similar outfit. With that thought, Karla sprang up and rummaged through her wardrobe, pulling out a trench coat and jeans. identical to those in the photo. As she comprared them, the resemblance was uncanny, save for the photo’s aged yellow tint obscuring the finer details.

The eeriness of it all kept her fixated on the photo until she eventually fell asleep. In the middle of the night, the sound of the television woke her. Groggy and disoriented, Karla stumbled downstairs to replace it on with nobody watching.

It was past

two in the moming–no one in their right mind would be watching TV at this hour.

Confused, Karla approached, thinking her dad might have left it on, and was about to turn it off and head back to bed when the film on the screen caught her attention. She paused, sinking into the couch.

It was an old war movie, black and white, dating back to 1975. With less advanced filming techniques than today, the shaky camera provided an intense sense of realism, each frame a genuine snapshot of the era.

The film captured Karla’s interest. She poured herself a glass of water and settled back into the couch to continue watching. Mid–sip, something on the screen made her do a spit–take.

“Cough, cough!”

Ignoring the mess, Karla coughed a few times before rushing closer to the TV.

There, on screen, was a man in military uniform, exuding authority with his cape. But it wasn’t his imposing figure that captivated her–it was the fact that he was the spitting image of the man in the photograph she had been studying just hours before.