The Replacement

They turned you on this morning, right before he would have normally woken up. Your memories of the past week or so are false, of course, programmed in so that you wouldn’t notice the gap between the time he died, and the time you took his place. You’d have started to realize soon enough anyway; the way your loved ones try to smile at you, but get these sad expressions when they think you’re not looking. You can eat; breathe; bleed, but it’s all for show. They’ll never tell you, and you’ll have to pretend like you don’t know you’re not him, even while it eats at you. Was it an aneurism? A Crash? A murder? Are you really like him? Where is his soul ? You’ll never be as good. You’ll always be the replacement. In the end you’re just a doll to take the place of someone they couldn’t let go.

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