“Who are you?” There was an old woman in his apartment. He assumed it was his apartment. He had woken up in the bed but did not recognise the room.
“I am your wife,” she whispered.
“I have never seen you before.” He was not lying.
“Are you hungry? The pap is almost ready.”
Who does she think she is, coming in here, pretending to be his wife, cooking in his kitchen?
“Who are you?” There was anger in his voice this time.
“I am your wife.” She repeated his question: “Who are you?”
“I don’t know.”