Cold panic rose up from the depths of Ryan’s being and sank its teeth into his guts. He toppled from his stool and frantically crabbed away through a rain of Chinese take-out and beer. His rapid retreat ended when his head hit the refrigerator door. The sudden thud knocked his hammering heart back into Ryan’s chest.
      “Who…who…who?” His tongue refused to make any other sound.
      “Am I?” the stranger asked.
      Still unable to get his quivering lips to form words or to tear his eyes away, Ryan simply nodded.
      “Come sit down.” The stranger patted the seat Ryan had vacated in such a hurry. “I’ll explain everything.”
      Ryan slowly shook his head. He wasn’t sure if any of his other parts were working and didn’t really care to find out. He certainly wasn’t ready to cozy up next to someone who could materialize from thin air.
      “Oh come now,” the stranger flashed a toothy grin. “Is this the face of someone out to do you harm?”
      A stupid stare was all the answer Ryan could muster. It was his own face smiling back. Ryan raised a trembling hand and tried to get his mouth to make an intelligible sound. The stranger wearing his face went on smiling as he slipped from his seat. Ryan tried to back pedal away but the refrigerator cut him off. The smiling stranger squatted beside Ryan; gently closed Ryan’s gaping mouth; and leaned closer.
     
      “Let me help you,” the stranger whispered. He extended a seamless palm Ryan’s way.
      Ryan let his hand fall into the stranger’s. He was on his feet in a single fluid motion and the stranger was guiding him back to the empty stool.
      “You see, nothing to be afraid of,” the stranger assured him with a wink.
      Except for a quick shiver of dread, the stranger was right. His fear was gone. Ryan wiped cold sweat from his brow and heaved a sigh of relief. Whoever this guy was, he was solid enough.
      “Yes, I’m real,” the stranger said. “You’re not losing your mind; quite the contrary.”
      “Who are you? Where’d you come from?” Ryan asked.
      “That’s not important. What’s important right now is what I can do for you.” The stranger gave Ryan a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s have a beer and talk it over.”
      Without waiting for an answer, the stranger crossed the kitchen and retrieved two bottles of beer. He popped the caps from the bottles with a flick of his thumb before settling in next to Ryan.
      “That’s quite a mess you’ve got there,” the stranger said after a few silent sips.
      Embarrassed at being caught with the kitchen looking like it did, the understatement was lost on Ryan. He fought off the urge to jump up to clean settling instead for a sip of beer.
      “It wasn’t my fault,” Ryan whimpered.
      “Of course it wasn’t,” the stranger assured him. “That’s why I’m here. We’ll have this cleaned up in no time and no one will ever be the wiser.”
      “Do you really think so?” Ryan asked.
      “We’ll have the place looking like new.”
      “But how?” Ryan wanted to know. “How am I ever going to explain all this?”
      “Leave that to me.” The stranger pointed to the sink. “You get some trash bags. By the way, do you have a real sharp knife?”
      “Sure, I’ll just go…”
      “You’ll do no such thing,” a voiced boomed from across the room. Ryan froze half off his stool. His companion muttered a curse and drained his bottle. Neither took his eyes off the newcomer. Broad of shoulder and powerfully built the man filled the doorway. His big hands were balls into fists that rested on his hips. The disapproving scowl on his face and the fire in his eyes dared the drinking buddies to disagree. Ryan could not have disagreed if the notion occurred to him; he was mesmerized by the tall man’s face. Once again Ryan found someone else using his face.
      “Enough!” Ryan screamed.
      The effort left Ryan panting. The tall man’s hands dropped to his sides. The other’s impish grin vanished. It took several minutes for the rosy flush to recede from Ryan’s face, but he had center stage.
      “I want some answers,” Ryan fumed. “And I want them now.”
      “Very well,” the tall man replied. “Ask your questions.”
      “Let’s start with, who are you?”
      “I supposed that was obvious.” His hands were back on his hips. “I’m you. More precisely, I’m the spirit part of you.”
      “You’re a ghost?” Ryan cocked his head for a better look at the spirit.
      “No, nothing like that.” The tall man heaved a tired sigh. “Forget all that junk you read. I’m the part God breathed into you.”
      “I don’t believe in God,” Ryan shot back.
      “And yet, here I am.”
      “That doesn’t prove anything,” Ryan said. He glanced from one reflection to the other. Suddenly, a light came on. Ryan’s eyes widened. “Oh, I get it. You’re like the little angel sitting on my shoulder.”
      “Not exactly, but that’s close enough.”
      “Well, if you’re the angel,” Ryan turned around. “Then, you must be…” his voice trailed away.
      The other Ryan blushed and flashed his wide smile. “In a manner of speaking,” he said with a shrug.
      “You’re kidding, right?” Ryan asked his visitors.
      “Why do you say that?” Good Ryan said.
      “Because that’s crazy,” Ryan protested. “I’m crazy. You’re not real. I’m having some kind of breakdown. That’s it, the stress has gotten to me.”
      Evil Ryan flicked the doubter’s ear with a long fingernail. “Real,” he chirped.
      “Ouch!” Ryan jumped from his seat rubbing the injured ear. “That hurt.”
      “Of course it did,” Good Ryan said. “Reality hurts.”
      “So, why now?” Ryan asked. “Why today of all days?”
      “This is a pivotal moment in your life,” Good Ryan explained.
      “Gee—you think?” Ryan snapped.
      “Old tall and sour has no sense of humor,” Evil Ryan said. “Just ignore him.”
      “Just ignore him,” Good Ryan mocked. He swept a long arm around the room. “You see where that advice has gotten you. It’s time to do the right thing.”
      “The right thing!” Evil Ryan was on his feet. “The right thing for who?”
      “Whom,” Good Ryan corrected.
      “Who, whom—whatever. You’ve been doing the right thing for the last twenty years. The trouble is, it’s always right thing for everybody else. Isn’t it time to do what’s good for you for a change? Why not live a little?”
      “Do what he’s suggesting and it will be very little.” Good Ryan warned. “This is not something you can pretend never happened.”
      “What would you have him do?” Evil Ryan asked. “Shout it from the housetop? Hold a press conference to say how sorry he is for his lapse in judgment? This is the real world we’re talking about.”
      “Must you always be so melodramatic?” Good Ryan said. “A simple phone call to George Deats should do. Explain what happened, let George help you.”
      “You call George and one phone call is exactly what you’ll get,” Evil Ryan said. “You can’t tell anybody about this especially the police.”
      Ryan looked over the room. A single tear escaped his eye.
      “You’ve got to call George,” Good Ryan said.
      “It wasn’t my fault,” Ryan explained.
      “It’s the only way.”
      “It’s not the only way,” Evil Ryan whispered. “It’s his way. My way or the highway; hasn’t that always been his advice?”
      “It’s the right thing to do,” Good Ryan insisted.
      “Says who?” Ryan asked.
      “Now, you’re talking,” Evil Ryan cheered.
      “God says,” Good Ryan replied.
      “Oh that’s rich,” Evil Ryan snickered. “Take a look around Ryan. It’s too late. God had his chance. Where was He when you really needed him?”
      “God will help you through this,” Good Ryan promised.
      “Do you think God’s going to help with that?” Evil Ryan pointed at the figure on the floor.
      Ryan’s eye followed the gesture down to the body of his wife. Her blonde hair, stained crimson, floated atop a pool of rapidly congealing blood. Ryan didn’t begin the day planning to kill her. He just snapped. The frying pan was in his hand and then it was crashing down—again and again. He could still hear her skull cracking each time he brought it down. He didn’t like to think Good Ryan would lie to him, but the truth was plain to see. It was splashed all over the kitchen. God, if there was one, was never going to forgive this. Ryan turned to the figure on his left and gave him a silent nod. The evil one no longer looked like Ryan. His smile had a malevolent twist as he slid a large knife in Ryan’s direction.
      “Little pieces will be easier to dispose of,” he said.