The shoes that were at the foot of the bed when I got up were not mine. Neither were the socks I found in them. I was going to mention this to my wife, who was coming out of the bathroom at the time, but I held back my distrust of myself and the facts. I showered and shaved, and I was sure that if I gave it some time, everything would be back to normal. But when I returned to the bedroom, the shoes were still not mine. However, I tried them with some trepidation and they turned out to suit me very well, or even very well. I had a busy day ahead of me, so I decided to pretend not to notice the discomfort. Oddly enough, the clothes in the closet didn’t belong to me either. I liked everything, including shirts, jackets, pants, underwear, but I couldn’t recognize that outfit as my own. I chose a modest outfit in gray tones and went out to the kitchen for a coffee with her. My new image did not interest either my wife or my children.
