[ WP ] Whenever a felony is committed , a clone of the perpetrator is created using DNA left at the crime scene . The original goes to jail , while the clone takes his/her place in society .

I have loved Andrew since the moment I first saw him. He ’ s the kind of guy you just love, you know? Kind to animals, always laughing about something – and he ’ s got one of those laughs, the kind that come up from the heart of a person and just light everything up. He really taught me what love is. Cheesy, yeah, but you know. Sometimes emotions are cheesy. Whatever. The best part of my day is waking up next to my husband every morning. So when things started changing, you know, I took it pretty hard. 
 
 Andrew started sleeping on the sofa a few weeks ago. He tells me it ’ s because the bedroom is so warm at night, which it is, but that never seemed to bother him before. I ’ d wake up in the middle of the night to feel his arms around me, pulling me in close. He ’ d snuggle his face into my hair, or in my bosom. He ’ s a cuddly guy. But not anymore, I guess. His kisses have gotten colder, too. They used to be so soft and warm and welcoming, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and now – I don ’ t know. He gave me a peck on the cheek the other day, but it was like he was kissing a distant aunt or something. 
 
 But, you know, I could have lived with that. I could have dealt with the distance and the coldness and sleeping alone. I could have dealt with the moments when he looks at me like he has no idea who I am. I could have put up with all that and worse, for the rest of my life, just to be near him. Until last night, anyway. 
 
 I came home from work, took off my high heels, walked into the bedroom, and found Andrew sitting on the bed holding a framed photo from the wedding. He was crying. He doesn ’ t do that a lot. He ’ s not like some stoic repressed macho man or anything, but he ’ s not typically one for the waterworks. He saw me come in. I would really, really like to forget the pain on his face, but I don ’ t think I ever will. 
 
 “ This is a lie, ” he said, waving the photo at me. That ’ s pretty far up there on the list of the worst sentences your husband can say to you. It hit me like he ’ d just punched me in the stomach. I felt the tears prickling in my eyes. 
 
 “ What do you mean? ” 
 
 He took a deep breath before answering. “ I mean, both of the people in this photo are not in this room right now. ” 
 
 I couldn ’ t breathe. I couldn ’ t think. I knew what he meant. I ’ d lost him. My beautiful, handsome, happy Andrew, gone to me forever. He stared at the photo for a moment, then looked back to me. 
 
 “ Just tell me, ” he said, voice shaking. “ What did she do? ” 
 
 I couldn ’ t tell him. I didn ’ t know. They don ’ t tell you that, you know? So the next girl won ’ t know that it was an accident. She won ’ t know that it was just a little shove, to keep him from walking away. She won ’ t know how it looked when his head hit the countertop. She won ’ t know how long I sat with his body, listening to the sirens approaching. She won ’ t know about him. She won ’ t know she ’ s a copy of a copy. Maybe I was a copy of a copy. It doesn ’ t matter. I loved him from the moment I saw him, and I still could n't keep from destroying him. 

