The day is sunny and bright and looks perfect for going golfing with his best friends' Herb Sankowitz and Fred Cory.

Of course, his wife wakes up first. Ellen is an early riser and an early sleeper, usually in bed by eight, nine at the latest. She goes through her day in a constant state of anticipation and alarm. Today is no different.

"Jeff, come here, please, the vacuum isn't sucking." Jeff moans, wanting to make a crude remark but his mouth is too pasty and his eyes too unfocused to deal with the consequences. He shuffles into the bathroom and looks at his ash white face in the mirror, pulling his eyelids down to check for pink eye. (His mother always told him to check for pink eye, first thing in the morning.)

He brushes his teeth, with the up and down movements that denote good dental hygiene. He rubs talc between his toes to prevent athletes’ foot (although he is not very athletic).

Then he goes, still in his bathrobe and looks at the vacuum cleaner. The bag is full. He empties it very very carefully because spilling even one spec would just be one more disaster he would need to deal with. Ellen is eating her breakfast, watching Jeff. She munches on a piece of toast.

Jeff almost spills some dust, horrified, he catches it just in time. Ellen is momentarily distracted by a fly (which she patiently stalks and squashes with a piece of paper towel), so she does not notice Jeff's slip.

His chore complete, Jeff takes a shower. He lathers himself well and rinses all but the soap in his eyes. He steps out onto the bath mat blindly reaching for a towel on the rack over the clothes hamper but his towel is not there. He calls Ellen:

"Ellen, where is my towel?" She comes in, bothered and upset that he should call her for such a trivial thing. "Your towel is where it always is, on the rack by the sink." Jeff Protests, he does not remember his towel ever being there. Ellen hands it to him, he wipes the soap out of his eyes and sees that the towels are indeed on the rack by the sink. He also notices that there is no rack over the clothes' hamper.

Jeff scratches his head in wonderment and dries himself off.

Although dressed for golf all day, Jeff does not get to play. He helps Ellen around the house and in the late afternoon they go for a ride to the lake. Jeff sulks.

The next day is Sunday. Jeff reflects on this while lying in bed. Sunday is a boring day. Ellen and he will go to church and listen to classical music, or visit Ellen's mother. He isn't sure which is more boring.

He reflects on the towels, and how they were not where they had always been. He does not understand.

The next morning Ellen smiles. Jeff practically falls out of bed. Ellen hasn't smiled in years. It is most unlike her and especially for a Sunday when her frown is usually the deepest, in reverence and fear of God. Jeff lies in bed watching Ellen as she hums and smiles and dances around the room. Jeff is confused.

"What shall we do today?" he asks pensively.

"Let's go swimming," she says. Jeff is flabbergasted. Ellen hasn't put on a bathing suit in almost as long as she hasn't smiled. These two factors, corresponding as they do, make Jeff feel very ill at ease and yet also a little excited. 'Perhaps things have changed, ' he thinks, 'or maybe this is an illusion, a dream.' He lies back down on the bed and closes his eyes and tries as hard as he can to wake up. Every time he opens his eyes Ellen is singing and smiling.

Finally he is convinced that this is not a dream. Ellen comes in fully dressed in a sun hat and pretty flowered, printed dress, which he has never seen before. It is much brighter than anything he has ever seen Ellen Buying. She sits on the bed encouraging Jeff to get up. "Get up dear. The day is so beautiful." Jeff feels like a child, Ellen is no longer the Ellen he knows. He is angry, at first. "I don't want to get up," he pouts, Ellen laughs. "I have a headache," he laments. Ellen dashes off to the bathroom and brings back a couple of aspirin, then goes off to the kitchen to start his breakfast. This is scaring him. Things are too good. He does not want to believe they are real. He does not want to be disappointed. Although his life has been less than what he had wanted, it at least was ordered and predictable, but now; what is happening?

Jeff truly does not feel well. He has to get up and go to the bathroom. He looks in the mirror and while he is checking for pink eye, he happens to see Ellen come back in and get on the bed with another man. Now at first Jeff can't see the man because Ellen is blocking his view. She is laughing and it sounds as if he is laughing too. Then, when Ellen moves, Jeff's legs become weak . . . There in his bed, with his wife, in his pajamas, is himself. He certainly looks very much like the face that he sees in the mirror every morning. Only the face is less pale, fuller, and, well, he has to admit it, happier than he has ever seen his own to be.

Jeff storms into the room and more out of fear than anger, orders to know what is going on. The two of them stop, as if they had heard a sound, but aren't quite sure. They shrug and go on with what they are doing.

This healthier, more robust Jeff pulls the giggling and giddy Ellen on top of him. They thrash around for a few moments. Jeff yells for them to stop. They come out of the covers, disheveled and listening, but still uncertain that they heard anything. Jeff stands there, his face red as a beet and his hands shaking. What is going on? Who are these people that look like him and his wife and why are the towels not where they are supposed to be?

It is time to get dressed. Ellen goes to finish breakfast while the other Jeff, the more robust Jeff, goes to take a shower. Jeff decides to put on some clothes.

When he opens his closet, he takes a deep breath of surprise. In the first place, it was a mess, and in the second, none of the clothes seem to be his, except for a rather nice pinstripe suit that he often wears, but which now is remanded to a dark corner and covered in plastic, while the other clothes are loud and tasteless. Since that seems to be the only sensible thing in the closet, he puts on the suit.

The more robust Jeff finishes his shower and comes into the bedroom, singing. This healthy Jeff almost bumps into Jeff, brushing ever so slightly, his shoulder. The robust Jeff shivers a little for a moment then goes and picks out a Hawaiian shirt and pair of blue cords.

While this joyful Jeff Puts on his shoes, Jeff hurries downstairs to the kitchen. There Ellen is fixing a stack of pancakes and eggs. She looks up as Jeff enters.

"My, what is this? Are you playing some kind of joke on me? Don't tell me. You want to go to church this morning or take flowers to my poor old Momma?" Ellen raises her head and laughs a horse laugh. "You slay me this morning, you really do." As she pulls out his chair so he can sit down and eat, Ellen gets a closer look at Jeff. "Why honey, you look awfully pale, you feeling all right? It's probably those clothes, they would make anyone look sickly. You go up and change into something you can move in. You and I are going to do a lot of moving today, at the picnic." Ellen turns Jeff around and marches him off.

"No church?" Jeff asks pleasantly enough. Ellen laughs. "You are really cracking me up this morning, you tease you."

Jeff goes back upstairs, passing behind the robust Jeff as he combs his hair in the bathroom, then the healthier Jeff heads down to the kitchen for breakfast. Ellen squeals. "You rascal, you must have had those clothes on underneath all the time." The robust Jeff gives her a questioning look but is too hungry to pursue it any further.

Jeff puts on a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of blue cords. They are a fraction too snug on him but he sucks in his belly. Quietly he returns to the kitchen, keeping out of sight. He sees that the robust Jeff is eating the stack of fluffy pancakes. Jeff is really hungry. Ellen looks on smiling. Finally she turns and says she has to go and get the picnic basket from the garage. She leaves by the side door, blowing the healthy Jeff a kiss. Jeff hesitates a moment then moves into the kitchen.

The tanned Jeff looks up as Jeff enters. He stops eating mid-bite, as he sees his other, paler self, standing before him. He tries to speak but Jeff is around behind him choking him with the napkin he has tied around his neck to protect his Hawaiian shirt from errant crumbs. The robust Jeff is helpless and kicks his legs and flails his arms while Jeff strangles him. Finally the tanned Jeff is motionless and Jeff removes his hold from the napkin. He quickly drags the body of this other Jeff and puts it in his closet upstairs.

On his way down he runs into Ellen, who has just returned from getting the picnic basket. "Oh, you have changed your shirt, you are in a changeable mood today, aren't you?" She smiles and kisses Jeff on the forehead. "You haven't finished your breakfast." Jeff goes and finishes what is left of the pancakes. He gets every crumb because he is hungry.

After he is done, his fork and knife neatly placed on the side of his plate. He smiles. The smile seems to appear out of nowhere and creeps across his face. He looks up at Ellen, who is busy putting sandwiches and pickles and ham and cheese and bread and wine, into the picnic basket, as she hums softly to herself.

Jeff breathes a large breath and takes in the room around him. It is cheery, much cheerier than he ever remembered it to be. Colorful trays, towels and wallpaper. He feels good for the first time in longer than he can remember. He even seems to have warm feelings toward Ellen.

They had fun all day. A picnic, full of games and dancing and joking with his old friends Herb Sankowitz and Fred Cory, who themselves, seem happier and more friendly and whom Ellen actually appears fond of.

It is not hard for Jeff to get used to this new life; it is as if he were born to it and there is no one to say that he wasn't. He doesn’t question what happened and he checks on the dead Jeff in the closet every now and then. He fills a clothing bag full of moth balls and stuffs the dead Jeff in it so he won't spoil or smell. Ellen doesn't seem to miss him, she seems content with Jeff as he is.

A week later, Jeff no longer checks for pink eye in the mirror in the morning, no longer talcs his feet, hardly ever wears shoes for that matter. He brushes his teeth sideways instead of up and down, even skips brushing. Jeff has the opportunity to sun himself for hours, acquiring a nice robust tan and Ellen brings him pitchers of ice tea.

Jeff plays golf on Saturdays and never takes a drive to the lake, while Ellen sometimes enjoys watching him play or is busy with her bridge club or ladies auxiliary. Ellen is usually busier than Jeff. She does seem to be enjoying herself and in a deep down way, it makes Jeff happy to see her happy, so he's happy.

After a month, Jeff decides he better get rid of the other Jeff, for even with the moth balls he is getting a little rancid. Ellen thinks a mouse has died and she sprays the whole house with disinfectant. Jeff drags the body to the cellar and digs a hole where the concrete has broken apart from the movement of the earth, or settling of the house. He puts Jeff in the hole, knowing full well that no one would ever miss him because there he was, alive, healthy, robust. Jeff smiles as he works.

Jeff’s life is fine, every day is a holiday. He works when he feels like it and doesn't work when he wants to do something else. Still, there is something that nags at the back of Jeff's mind. He begins to wonder how all this came about. He wonders at the other Jeff and how he has taken over his life, and how the other Jeff seemed to have the life that he had always wanted. He wonders about the old Ellen. Is this the old Ellen transformed by some mysterious force? If not, where is his old Ellen? What is she doing without him? Is she angry? Is she scared? Is she still so unhappy? This bothers Jeff for a period of time. He decides to devote himself more to Ellen and their relationship.

After some time Jeff's golf games aren't so important anymore. Neither are the picnics on Sundays. Ellen is so cheerful and undemanding that it is a pleasure to be around her.

His love is blossoming and he finds all he wants to do is return the devotion and kindness she shows him. Jeff stays home on Saturdays, helping Ellen with the chores. They sing and tell jokes. He chases her with the vacuum cleaner around the room and she laughs and laughs and laughs. How Jeff loves to laugh.

The Sunday picnics being a thing of the past Jeff suggests that they go to the lake. "But you don't like the lake." Ellen remarks. He convinces her that wherever she is, is beautiful to him. They kiss and drive to the lake.

The day is clear and bright. The sun shines off the little waves and the fish jump way out in the middle as they sit on the shore all day and watch. Jeff holds Ellen and they snuggle, watching the sun throw oranges and reds across the lake at sunset. Jeff loves being at the lake with Ellen.

The next morning Ellen wakes up early. Jeff lies in bed listening to her movements in the bathroom. It seems that she isn't very cheerful this morning, not singing "Everything's Coming Up Roses" like she usually does. Jeff doesn't mind, just those little sounds of her movements fill him with the joy of her.

Jeff hears her in the shower and he thinks of how she will smell when she gets out all perfume and soap. The shower stops. Ellen calls from the bathroom. "Jeff...Jeff...? Where is my towel?" Jeff sits up puzzled. He knows that he just put out new towels the day before. He goes to help her. He sees that she has soap in her eyes and is groping blindly for her towel. "Honey, you've gotten turned around, your towel is near the sink, as usual." He hands her the towel. "But they are always over the hamper," Ellen replies wiping her eyes.

Jeff feels uneasiness creep into his mind. He remembered that it was when he couldn't find his towel that his whole life changed. He remembered the other Jeff and burying him in the basement.

He keeps a close eye on Ellen who is sometimes cheerful and sometimes not. Gradually she becomes less and less like the Ellen he laughed with by the lake and danced with at the picnics.

The very next day he has made breakfast for Ellen and she is sitting comfortably picking at her food. He tells her he has to go up and make the bed, but instead he goes straight to Ellen's closet. He searches the deep recesses of it till he comes to an old trunk that he had forgotten about long ago. There is dust on it, yet some of the dust has been disturbed. He opens it carefully.

There inside, he gasps, is Ellen, the much tanner, more robust Ellen, his Ellen, the Ellen he had laughed with and danced with. Coldness comes over his body.

In a month, Ellen being able to get much sun, has a robust tan, she relishes Jeff’s attention and their weekly trips to the lake. Jeff loathes the lake.