Mirror Image

Mirror Image
I was watching the bob of his Adam's apple when I realized that he was the wrong way round. The scarred spot should be on the other side of his neck.
He glared at me. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing.” I hurriedly lowered my eyes to my toast, my mind in a whirl.
“As I was saying...” His voice droned on. I did not listen. Who was this man pretending to be my husband? I took another look.
One eyebrow was higher than the other but which one? In my confusion I could not remember. But that tuft of hair emerging from his ear – that was definitely on the wrong side. Suddenly it all became clear. He was a mirror image!
How had he escaped from the mirror? What had happened to my real husband?
“Well?” The irritation in his voice drew my attention back to him.
“W -What were you saying?” Fear made my voice tremble.
“I was asking what time you want to go shopping. For god’s sake, woman. What’s wrong with you? You look like you have seen a ghost.”
“I must go to the bathroom,” I said and rushed from the kitchen.
I feared he might follow me, this strange and frightening man, but I reached the bathroom in safety and slammed and locked the door.
“Graham?” I approached the mirror cautiously half expecting to see my real husband trapped inside but all I saw was an image of myself.
But wait! Something was wrong. I didn’t look quite right. My hair was parted strangely and I was sure that the small wart on my cheek was on the other side of my face.
Gradually the awful truth sunk in. I too was a mirror image. No! I felt sick to my stomach. I would by tied forever to the ghastly facsimile of my husband who sat eating porridge in the kitchen.
With a sinking heart I unlocked the door and went downstairs.
He called out, “Has the paper come yet?”
“Yes, dear.” I picked it up from the mat. I wished I could open the front door and run but l was trapped in this mirror-image world and I made my way back to the kitchen on leaden feet. There was no escape.