My wife thought I was unemployed, because that is what I had told her.

For the past two months, I wake up every morning to wish her well at work; and greet her in the evenings upon her return. But as these days and weeks drag on, I can only help but notice the increasing disappointment in her eyes each time she comes home. Surely, coming home to an unemployed husband is one thing. But returning home to the man she married who is gradually deteriorating in front of her very eyes is another experience to behold. At this point, my nape is beginning to ivy around my neck and throat, and I find it increasingly difficult to change out of my pajamas before her return. I am acutely aware of my evolving appearance, but for some reason instinctively lack the desire to change this routine. For unbeknown to her, I have a secret.

I first discovered my “gift” when I was about 12 years old. Although quite immature at the time, I somehow came to the realization that the ramifications of revealing my secret could have a profound impact not just on me, but possibly the world. My rationalization at the time was twofold: either I would show off and abuse my “talent,” thereby placing others at risk; or, more likely, I would have been forcefully separated from my family and placed into some sort of locked facility. The latter scared me the most.

For seven years I kept this secret to myself. Socially, I felt like an outcast out of fear others would learn about my truth. And eventually someone did find out. Surveillance footage confirmed it, and without the possibility for excuses I reluctantly agreed to demonstrate my gift to a group of men sporting dull colored uniforms; whom lacked all potential muscle movements in their face. Since that fateful day, I have been under contract to not only keep my mouth shut, but to actively participate in assignments aimed at achieving desired objectives.

Recently, events around the world have been at an all-time slow. I am still employed and receiving regular payment for being on-call. I am thoroughly enjoying my time off and continue to maintain physical strength and agility. But I don’t have the motivation to shave or shower as often as in the past. It’s just a matter of time until I have to explain to my wife that I have a job again.