Lizzy stood in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed, her brow furrowed. The sight before her was… unsettling.
Two identical boys, tangled together under the blankets, their faces relaxed in sleep. It was impossible to tell them apart. The same brown hair. The same peaceful expressions. Even the way they breathed in unison—soft, steady—was eerily identical.
It was her son and her husband.
And she couldn’t tell which was which.
She swallowed hard, pushing that thought aside. It’s just the morning fog in my brain. That’s all.
Glancing at the clock—10 AM—she sighed. Time to wake them.
She walked over to the bed and gave a gentle shake to the closest boy’s shoulder. "Alright, boys, up and at ‘em."
Both of them groaned at the same time.
Lizzy blinked. Even their tired voices sounded the same.
The boy she had shaken squirmed, pulling the blankets over his head. "Five more minutes…"
The other boy groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "Too early…"
Lizzy sighed. "Nope. No more sleeping. We’ve got a doctor’s appointment at two, and I’m not spending the next four hours playing ‘Guess Who’ with you two."
That got their attention.
Both boys blinked up at her, sleepy and confused. "Doctor?" one of them muttered.
Lizzy sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples. "I spent all night looking things up, trying to find answers. Nothing. I called a bunch of doctors—most of them thought I was insane. Except for one. The local doctor here in town. He sounded… like he’d dealt with this kind of thing before."
She gave them both a pointed look. "So. We’re going."
The two boys sat up, their identical blue eyes still heavy with sleep.
And that was when it hit her again—she still had no idea which one was Timmy and which one was Martin.
She squinted at them. They blinked back.
…This was ridiculous.
"Alright," she sighed. "Which one of you is Martin?"
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, suddenly, the boy on the left straightened his back, put on a very serious face, and said, "I am."
Lizzy raised an eyebrow.
The other boy scoffed. "No, I’m Martin!"
Lizzy groaned. "Boys—"
The first boy grinned. "No, he’s Timmy. I’m Dad."
"Nice try, kiddo," the second boy shot back. "But you’re the one who’s Timmy."
Lizzy closed her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose. "God help me."
She opened them again and fixed them both with a sharp glare. "Alright. If you both want to be Martin, then prove it."
The boy on the right crossed his arms. "Oh, that’s easy. You snore loud enough to shake the house. You talk in your sleep sometimes—once I heard you say, ‘The fridge is a lie’ at like 3 AM. And, you always hide candy in your sock drawer, but you think I don’t know about it."
The other boy—the fake Martin—grinned, laughing. "Okay, yeah, that’s actually really funny."
Lizzy smirked. "And you, my dear, are Timmy."
Timmy groaned. "Aww, man! I almost had you!"
Martin just ran a hand down his face, muttering, "I can’t believe I had to prove I’m myself in my own damn house…"
Lizzy clapped her hands together. "Good! Now that that’s settled—go get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us."
As she stood up, though, she caught one last glimpse of them—her son and her husband, identical, sitting side by side, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
And she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable thought that keeping track of them… was only going to get harder.