In Which I FreeWrite so I DoWrite:
The sickness grabbed him. Grabbed his stomach, caught him. Sleep, the exhaustion still with him had done nothing. The nausea was omnipresent this morning – one of the worst. His belly churned, he fell to the floor to crawl to the bathroom – his wife asleep.
How much longer could he keep the secret? How much longer until she discovered his awful truth? In his time on earth he’d found other strangers – the elves, hidden away, the trolls, disguised as people – but no one like himself. He was utterly alone.
It welled up within him, choking him as he knelt over the tub. He turned the shower on to wash away the mess, and managed to fall inside.
His mouth stretched around the expulsion. A large, round dome emerged – what if he didn’t shave his head? It was a silly thought, as final thoughts go.
Dome gave way to the identical face – the duplicate emerging, turning his innards inside out. Fingers reached up to peel away the old lips, his old bones gelatinizing in an instant, the fresh body emerging, bright pink, coated in goo. Water from the shower washed it away.
He stood, old memories speeding through his brain. Old skin, paper thin now. He would crumple it up, hide it, run it through the trash disposal before his wife came down.
It was a strange life, but it was his.