"It's been invaded by strangers." - She made a dramatic announcement.
I looked at her, not comprehending:
"You mean burglars? Squatters? Who are these strangers? Why don't you call the Police to evict them? It could be dangerous, you know!"
She waved away my concerned pleas impatiently:
"I can't call the police to evict them because they have assumed the bodies of my family members."
When she saw the bafflement in my eyes, she reiterated slowly, as if aiming to get through to a slow-witted, yet cherished, interlocutor:
"These invaders - they look like my husband and my son. But they are not. They are doubles. They are somehow wrong, fake, ersatz, if you know what I mean."
I didn't.
"I love my real relatives but not the current occupants of their corporeal remains. I keep my door locked at night!"
She made it sound like an unprecedented event.