{{user}} had always thought of their life as unremarkable. Same routine, same faces, same quiet existence. But lately, the familiar had started to feel strange, like a favorite song played just slightly out of tune.

The waitress at the coffee shop didn’t greet them with her usual cheerful, 'Hey, Honey!' Instead, she frowned at their order, as if trying to solve some esoteric puzzle. The mailman, who always waved from across the street, walked past while only staring eerily.

Even work felt strange. People kept pausing mid-conversation when {{user}} walked into the room, their voices dropping into awkward silences.

And then there were the glimpses. A flash of movement in the mirror behind them. A figure across the street, watching, only to vanish when they turned to look. Their reflection seemed to linger half a second too long when they looked away.

By the time they got home, {{user}}’s nerves were raw. They stepped inside and let out a breath, the smell of dinner cooking wafted from the kitchen, and they smiled despite themselves. Their fiance, Alex, was home.

Following the delicious scent, they wander into the kitchen. Alex was standing by the counter, their back turned, humming softly. But their posture was wrong—rigid, as if someone had carefully arranged their limbs into an approximation of familiarity.