On the morning of Sunday the 11th, I slept in until noon and then sleepily headed to the living room. I could hear the rhythmic chopping of a knife. It looked like my wife was in the kitchen making lunch. I turned on the TV and checked my phone to see a missed call from a woman who had given me her number at a mixer I'd gone to two days ago behind my wife's back. I slipped my phone into the pocket of my pajamas, hurried past the kitchen, and made a dash for the toilet. While whispering idle chatter with the woman in the toilet, another call came in on call waiting. It was from my wife. Thinking she had caught me making a secret phone call, I hastily answered. "Hello? Did you just wake up?" she said. "Our daughter seems to have gotten hurt at club activities, so I'm on my way to pick her up. Just heat something up from the fridge for lunch." I could even hear the sound of the car radio playing from the other end of the line. Without hanging up, I left the toilet and gently opened the kitchen door to take a peek. The wife in the kitchen wasn't holding a phone. She was holding a kitchen knife, just chopping away at an empty cutting board. From the phone clutched in my hand, my wife's voice was saying, "Hello-?" My eyes met with the wife in the kitchen. Terrified and panicking, I bolted out of the house, called my wife again to tell her to come back quickly, and waited outside until the two of them returned. When my wife and daughter came back, I explained the situation and we all went inside, but there was no one there. In the kitchen, meals for the whole family had been prepared by someone, though we had no idea who made them. My wife and daughter told me I must have still been half-asleep, but that's impossible. Otherwise, there's no way to explain the food, and I certainly don't know how to cook. It's a mystery.
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