Where is my family?
They’re here, you say, in this perfect house:
the wife, the son, the daughter,
even the dog and cat. But they’re all imposters.
Lost my wife a year ago.
Daughter and son, five months.
Even my dog and cat are replacements.
These imposters put on a good show… every head tilt, every smile — convincing.
But their movements are too perfect, too precise.
I play along, but never sleep. I refuse to be taken.
I refuse to become the perfect husband to this perfect family in the perfect house.
