Bowl of Rice
I suspected someone was impersonating my husband.
Maybe it wasn't even human.
Because lately, Luther had been acting far too strange.
After more than ten years of being left-handed, he'd suddenly started using his right hand.
The birthmark on his thigh had disappeared too.
But the strangest thing happened this morning.
As he crossed the balcony on his way out, the morning light slanted across the floor.
And somehow, he cast two shadows.
One in front.
One behind.
Yet whenever he held me, I could still hear the strong, steady beat of his heart.
I told myself I was being paranoid.
Until that evening.
I had the TV on while I cooked in the kitchen when the news anchor suddenly cut in with a breaking report.
“Authorities have identified the body of the man who drowned in Lake Yandee last week.”
“The deceased has been identified as Luther Miller, male...”
My mind went completely blank.
Behind me, the front door opened softly.
Then Luther's gentle voice drifted in.
“Honey, I'm home.”
My entire body started shaking.
I spun around and raised the kitchen knife toward him.
“Who the hell are you?”