My sister called me at 2:00 AM. She was crying.
"Come get me. Please. I think my husband is dead."
I was already putting on my shoes.
"Where are you?"
"The closet. He's in the bedroom. He's been standing there for three hours. He hasn't moved."
"Who hasn't moved?"
"Tom. My husband. But it's not Tom."

I drove to her house in fifteen minutes. She lives twenty minutes away.
I didn't knock. She left the back door unlocked like she said.
I found her in the bedroom closet. Kneeling behind her winter coats. Shaking.
I pulled her out.
"Where is he?"
She pointed to the bed.
No one was there.

"He was here," she whispered. "Standing right there. Facing the wall. For three hours."
I checked the whole house. Empty.
Her car was in the driveway. His car was gone.
"Claire. Where is Tom?"
She looked at me. Her eyes were strange. Not scared. Confused.

"Tom died," she said. "Three years ago. You were at the funeral."
I stared at her.
"Claire. I was at your wedding. Last year. I gave a toast. You cried."
She shook her head.
"That wasn't Tom. That was someone else. Someone wearing Tom."
I sat down. My legs felt wrong.
"Claire. You're scaring me."
She grabbed my phone. Opened my photos. Scrolled to her wedding.
"That's not Tom," she said, pointing at the groom.
It was Tom. Same face. Same smile. Same suit.
But she was right about something.
His eyes were wrong. In every photo. Too dark. Too still. Like a photograph of a photograph.

I looked at Claire.
"Who did you marry?"
She started crying again.
"I don't know. I don't remember. I just remember waking up one day and he was there. Making coffee. Calling me honey. And I thought... I thought I was going crazy. Because I knew Tom was dead. But he looked like Tom. He sounded like Tom."
She grabbed my arm.
"So I pretended. For a year. I pretended he was Tom. I pretended everything was fine. But last night, I woke up. And he was standing at the foot of the bed. Facing the wall. Not moving."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't say anything. He just stood there. For hours. I watched him. And then I realized."
"What?"
"He wasn't breathing." I took Claire to my apartment. She slept on my couch. I didn't sleep at all.
At 6:00 AM, my phone rang.
Tom's name on the screen.
I answered.
"Hey," his voice said. Normal. Warm. "Claire forgot her phone. Can you tell her I'm coming to get it?"
I didn't answer.
"Hello?"
"Where are you, Tom?"
"Home. Making breakfast. Claire's eggs are getting cold."
I looked at Claire. Asleep on my couch. She was here. Not at home.
"Tom. Claire is with me."
Silence.

Then his voice changed. Not angry. Not sad.
Curious.
"Is she?"
The line went dead.
I checked Claire's purse. Her phone was there.
He said she forgot her phone. He lied.
I called Tom back. Voicemail. Then again. Voicemail.
I called the police.
"I need a wellness check. 1428 Maple Drive. My brother-in-law is acting strange."
They sent a car.
Twenty minutes later, the officer called back.
"House is empty. No one home. No signs of disturbance."
"His car is in the driveway."
Silence.

"Ma'am, there's no car in the driveway."
I drove back to Claire's house.
The driveway was empty. The house was dark. The door was unlocked.
I went inside.
The kitchen was clean. Too clean. No dishes. No food. No coffee maker. No toaster.
Like no one had ever lived here.
I walked to the bedroom.
The bed was made. The walls were bare. No photos. No dresser. No closet doors.
Just an empty room.
I checked the closet.
Claire's clothes were gone. Tom's clothes were gone. The hangers were gone.
I stood in the middle of the room.

My phone buzzed.
A text from Tom's number.
A photo.
Claire. Sleeping on my couch. Taken from my bedroom doorway.
I spun around.
No one there.
Another text.
"Thank you for taking care of her. She gets scared easily. I'll come get her tonight."