Conditional Reality

Lugwrench Onionbreath hit the snooze alarm and returned to sleep. His doppelganger wafted out of his mouth like smoke rising from a campfire. The doppelganger coalesced into firmness, put on one of Lugwrench’s suits, and went to Lugwrench’s job where he tapped a keyboard in a cubicle all day. Lugwrench’s colleagues asked the doppelganger if he was feeling ok. The doppelganger pointed at his throat and shrugged his shoulders. Laryngitis, huh? said the colleagues. The doppelganger nodded. After that they left him alone. The doppelganger got home and crawled back down Lugwrench’s throat. Thanks for the day off, said Lugwrench.