Personal Narrative

The woman I’m married to is sitting in the office reading. I can see her face glowing from the light of our new tablet. The familiar face I’ve known for the better part of my life. I watch her blink those big, green eyes, then swipe left to turn the page. As she does so, I see the screen flicker on her face. It illuminates her long, luscious blonde hair and protruding cheekbones. She has her toned, tan legs extended onto the brown, suede chaise lounge we bought just last week. She notices me watching from the hallway. She smiles, then goes right back to reading. Should I tell her? I can’t, for the life of me, decide. Part of me feels like she has the right to know, while part wants everything to stay how it is- perfect.
I watched her with the

Just the two of us, in Northern Montana, last month. The kids stayed at home in Boston with my parents. Linda and I signed up for a day long canoe trip. The mountains and scenery were beautiful. We saw deer, bear and other creatures around each and every bend in the river. Around one bend, there were whitewater rapids. Before I knew it, we were struggling to stay afloat. In a split second, Linda had been thrown from our canoe. I watched her struggle to stay above the water. I got up to reach for her, but just as I was about to grab her hand, the rapids tore us apart. I watched as her head ran into a rock jutting out of the riverbank. It was over in an instant. She didn’t feel

She was shipped back to Boston, where she was put into a coma in order to complete the cloning process. When she awoke, a new creature in the world, the doctors had planted faux memories of the rest of our canoe trip and vacation in her brain. They had created a plausible story of how she had fainted from dizziness and motion sickness in the rapids. And then we went home.
She looks up from the tablet and asks if I’m alright. I have tears in my eyes. I blink them away. I walk into the office trying to smile. I come over and sit on the end of the chaise lounge near her feet and ask what she is reading. I look down and am stunned by what I see. I catch my breath- she’s reading an article from the Medical Journal on “Fresh Copies.” A Fresh Copy- that’s what I’m married to. Does she suspect that she’s a clone? Why else would she be reading articles like