“What did you do?” my wife asked.
Sixteen million slapdash responses plied my mental waters. I decided that caution should be employed. “About what?”
“Your face.”
I felt like I’d walk in on a conversation already in progress. We were the only people present. My wife definitely meant me.
“What do you mean?” I checked a nearby mirror. “I look gorgeous.”
“Your mustache looks wrong.”
“How?” My mustache looked perfect. Well, as close to perfect as I can get it. Let’s not dive too deeply into those waters.
“One side is different than the other.”
“How?”
“It’s just different. They’re not the same. Look in the mirror.”
“I did. It looks fine.”
My really good mood soured, I went to the coffee shop.
A good friend was the barista on duty. I asked her, “How does my face look?”
Eyebrows quirking up into questioning arcs, she looked at me. Shrugged. “Same as always. Why?”
I told her what my wife claimed. She studied me. “I don’t see that. You’re very well groomed. You always are.”
“Thank you.”
Arriving home later, I carefully watched my wife. I was worried. She’d obviously been replaced by a robot, cyborg, or alien. Robot with AI made the most sense. A lot of AI is not all it’s cracked up to be.
What I will need to do is observe her and develop a series of test questions to verify my wife’s identity. I mean, trust but verify, right?
Especially in this messed up Age of Trump.
Michael Seidel, writer 
A wife’s view is considerably different than a Starbuck’s barista … ! Not only that, but you live with the former so it might be wise to pay attention to what she says. Robot or not.
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Yes, a wife’s view is considerably different. But, confused and bothered, I sought out another’s insights. Looking for validation that I wasn’t crazy. That I wasn’t overlooking something weird going on with my face. Because I didn’t see it. Did anyone else see it? Of course, as a robot, she probably has sharper vision installed. It’s capable of noticing a millimeter’s difference. Cheers
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