You suddenly find yourself holding a mop.
You look around the empty hall trying to make sense of what just happened. Looking down at the mop again, you realize your hands are different, they look bigger and callous, like the hands of a man who's worked hard all his life. The mop falls to the ground with a dull thud as you stare t you hands in disbelief. You notice the beige-colored sleeves that cover your arms now and follow them up to your torso. You're wearing a baggy, beige overall suit and clunky work boots. You see a small, white patch on your chest and turn it up to read the tag.
"Jones?" you read it out loud, and immediately cover your mouth. That was not your voice. You feel rough stubble and start feeling your face. Your hands make their way up to your scalp where you feel thin and receding hair in place of your usual bristly crew-cut.
"I need a mirror," you mutter, still uneasy with this strange voice.
You stumble around, not used to how your weight is distributed now, and finally find a door labeled "Restroom." You push open the door and practically run towards the mirror.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.23 seconds at 10:48am on Nov 28, 2024 via server WEBX1.