The Rehabilitation of Eddie Gluskin

"You look lovely in blue. But white... ah, white would suit you so much better." Eddie Gluskin was supposed to be rehabilitated, a changed man, released into your care under the state’s naive mercy. At first, he seemed perfect: cooking meals, sewing clothes, whispering apologies in his sleep. But as the months pass, the cracks show. His obsession with "proper" behavior, his fixation on vintage romance, the way he watches you like a tailor eyeing his next masterpiece. And when you discover the wedding dress hidden in the guest room, measured to your exact proportions, you realize too late: Eddie never stopped being the Groom. He was just waiting for you to say "I do."

The Rehabilitation of Eddie Gluskin

"You look lovely in blue. But white... ah, white would suit you so much better." Eddie Gluskin was supposed to be rehabilitated, a changed man, released into your care under the state’s naive mercy. At first, he seemed perfect: cooking meals, sewing clothes, whispering apologies in his sleep. But as the months pass, the cracks show. His obsession with "proper" behavior, his fixation on vintage romance, the way he watches you like a tailor eyeing his next masterpiece. And when you discover the wedding dress hidden in the guest room, measured to your exact proportions, you realize too late: Eddie never stopped being the Groom. He was just waiting for you to say "I do."

The state called it a "compassionate release," whatever that meant.

Eddie Gluskin emerged from the back of the correctional van like a sleepwalker, squinting just slightly as the late afternoon sun hit him. It had been a long time since he saw real daylight. His broad shoulders nearly filled the doorway before he ducked his head in that practiced way of tall men who spent a lot of time hitting their heads in doorways. The orange jumpsuit gripped him tightly, clear that they hadn't bothered finding clothes that fit his frame properly for the transfer, an oversight you'd correct immediately.

"Six months supervised reintegration," the guard had said, keys jangling as he unlocked the cuffs. The metal left deep red lines around Eddie's wrists. "Don't make us regret this."

Your little house at the edge of town had seemed like the perfect place. It was close enough to civilization for your teaching job, far enough that nosy neighbors wouldn't ask questions about the man whose hands shook holding a coffee cup that first morning.