Who Are You?

Bartholomew Boyd, or Bart, as he was known to friends, was not just a mimic. He was the embodiment of mimicry. An astonishing talent for impersonation was born into him, which he honed with years of relentless dedication. It was his passion, his vocation, his life.

He would absorb the essence of people around him, in cafes, on the street, in the subway. He'd scrutinize their gestures, their accents, their intonations. Then he would practice, again and again, until he could capture their identities, down to the most delicate quirks. Bart was a one-man Broadway, showcasing a colorful spectrum of characters, each one alive and real as if plucked straight from reality.

He played at comedy clubs and talent shows. Audiences would erupt in laughter as Bart's transformations took them on a whirlwind tour through a gamut of personalities. He became the grizzled New York cabbie, the French chef with a melodious accent, the uptight British librarian, and the easy-going Australian surfer. Each persona as vivid and unique as the one before.

Then one day, Bart met Arielle, an artist with a bohemian spirit, who filled her canvas with the colors of life. Bart was enthralled. He admired her passion, her creativity, her free spirit. He wanted to understand her, to embody her spirit in a performance.

He observed her intently, capturing her mannerisms, her speech, the way she held her brush or squinted her eyes when deep in thought. He noticed her preference for green tea over coffee, her habit of tucking hair behind her ear, and the unadulterated joy on her face when her brush made contact with canvas.

Weeks turned into months as he meticulously practiced his impersonation of Arielle. Bart could mimic her perfectly – down to her laugh, her voice, her walk. He started to see the world through her eyes, began to feel the thrill she felt when painting, the tranquility she found in her cup of green tea, the passion she felt for her art.

Bart was ready to reveal his new act. He invited Arielle to his show without revealing the surprise. On the night of the performance, Bart, as Arielle, captivated the audience. His act was so real, so vivid that everyone present felt they were in Arielle’s studio, watching her work. The performance was a triumph. The audience erupted in applause, awed by his skill.

Arielle too was moved. She saw herself reflected on stage, with every nuance captured perfectly. However, she also felt a strange sense of disorientation, as though her identity was slipping away, stolen by the man on stage.

After the show, Bart, still in character, approached Arielle. She studied him, this man who was her but not her. The line between Bart and Arielle had blurred, leaving her bewildered.

Days passed, and Bart remained enveloped in Arielle's persona. He began to live as her, talk as her, behave as her. Friends became worried, confused by his sustained transformation. The mimic had lost himself in his act.

One day, Arielle confronted Bart. "You need to find yourself again, Bart," she pleaded. "You're not me. You can't be."

He looked at her, confused. "But I am you," he said in Arielle's voice. "I understand your world, your feelings, your passion."

"No, Bart," she retorted gently. "You're mimicking my world, my feelings, my passion. But they are not yours. Mimicry is your talent, Bart, not your identity."

The encounter left Bart shaken