Eunice looked at her father, and quite honestly it was strange to see her own face looking back. Well, the face she had for about 30 minutes in the morning before putting on her makeup and 30 minutes at night after washing her face before going to bed.
She had a sense of annoyance in her voice when she spoke, “Remember the rules, Dad. Number one: stay home. And rule number two: Don’t open the door for anyone. Basically, no one should see me looking like ... well ... this!”
Her dad sighed, “It’s okay. I get it. You have an image. And, look, I still don’t know anything about that medallion we found in the attic with your mom’s stuff or how it transformed me into your doppelganger. But I do appreciate you coming out here for her funeral. I know we haven’t spoken much since you graduated. I think -- I think that’s my fault. I’m sorry. I could’ve been a better father. And I’ll spend my time researching this, and see if there’s some way to get me back to normal.”
Eunice’s stern expression softened for just a moment. She stared at her father with a sincerity she rarely had. A smile cracked on her face, “You tried, Dad. And I love you.” And after a brief hug, she put back on her sternest face and reiterated, “But, seriously, don’t let anyone see you.”
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