My Wife

I fumbled with my key. My fingers were so cold I couldn’t get the damn thing in the lock. When I did manage to get the door unlocked, my jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

The furniture in my foyer was all wrong. A leafy, fake plant sat in the corner where my coat rack used to be. My coat rack was up and gone. A round table took up the center of the small space with another fake plant resting on it. I’d never seen either before in my life. My glass trophy case was nowhere to be found.

I backed out the door and off the front porch. The number on my house was right, and I could see the street sign. That was right, too. This was my address. It had been for years.

I marched back inside. Leaving the door ajar, I crept further into the apartment. The baseball bat I’d kept behind the door was gone, but the new coat rack was just as good.

My grip on the coat rack faltered as I got a load of the living room. A loveseat, couch, and matching armchair had replaced my sectional. An octagonal, wooden coffee table sat where my glass one used to be. And, worst of all, my massive, high-end TV was gone. A dinky 40” one had been hooked up in its place.

“What the hell is going on here? Where the hell is my furniture?”

I froze. Someone was standing behind me. I could hear them breathing.

I whirled around, wielding the coat rack like a bat. A blonde woman about my age took a step back. She held out one hand and kept the other hidden behind her back.

“Relax, honey, it’s just me.”

“And who the hell are you?” I’d never seen this woman before in my life. She was pretty enough to be worth remembering. But her eyes were definitely something I’d remember. They were wild and crazed, way too enthusiastic.

Her nose crinkled. “Is this another one of your jokes? If it is, it isn’t funny.”

“Who. Are. You.”

“How could you forget your own wife?” She held up her left hand. A massive diamond glittered on her ring finger.

“I’m not married. I don’t even have a girlfriend.”

She smiled. With her crazy eyes, it was terrifying. “You’re right. You’re not married. And you won’t live long enough to be.”

Her smile didn’t falter as she brought her right hand into my sight line. She was clutching a knife.

I charged forward, holding the coat rack above my head. I’d barely made it five steps when she threw the knife. It landed in my chest and buried itself deep into my heart. I staggered, falling to my knees. The blonde stood over me. I reached for the knife, but her hand covered mine.

“No, no. If you take it out, it’ll be far too quick. I like to make this part last.”