Foundling

The baby had been left on his doorstep in a basket from Tesco, wrapped in a blanket and wearing warm clothes. A folded sheet of paper stuck down the side of the baby had ‘Test yourself’ written on it. Unfolded, it had a dna sequence printed on it.

“It matches.” the doctor announced after running tests on the baby and him.

“There’s no way that baby could be mine. I haven’t had sex in two years. And I still talk to her. She’d have told me.”

“That’s not what I mean.” the doctor sighed, “The baby’s dna is a perfect match for the sheet found in the basket.”

“Well of course it is.”

“And so is yours.”

“What?”

“The baby is you. You’ve been cloned.”


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