My Wife Went to Northern Myanmar. When She Came Back, Her Pupils Had Turned Golden

My wife went to teach in a remote border region near northern Myanmar for six months. On the day she returned, I made a table full of her favorite Sichuan dishes. Sitting at the table, she held her chopsticks differently. The delicate, raised pinky she used to favor was gone. Stiffly, she grabbed a piece of spicy chicken and swallowed it without even chewing, then looked up and smiled at me. Under the light, her pupils were slightly dilated, and deep in the black of her eyes, another tiny golden pupil seemed to split off. "Honey," she said, as if her throat were full of water, "this meat doesn't taste raw." Only then did I realize that perhaps what had returned was my wife's body,