Melissa’s standing there in her robe, bleary-eyed, her hair messed up -- she obviously just got up, and yet her face is completely made up. In fact, she’s made up in a more obvious, colorful way than you’ve ever seen before.
“Finally,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Did you put your makeup on in your room?” you ask.
“Did I what, twerp?” she retorts. “Let me in there.”
You’re blocking the door. “Your makeup,” you repeat, pointing a finger toward her face. “All the stuff isn’t in the bathroom anymore.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She manages to elbow past you, muttering, “It’s too early in the morning to deal with your crap.”
She slams the bathroom door behind her, and you shake your head. Oh, well, it’s not your concern if she’ll have to redo her makeup after she showers.
What is your concern, though, is that you’re still in only a towel, and the clothes you’d planned to wear today are still in the bathroom. “I wish I hadn’t done that,” you mutter. You take the few steps down the hall to your bedroom, anticipating having to go back into your closet to pick out something else.
The clothes you’d brought to the bathroom are folded neatly on your bed.
You have to touch them to verify -- yeah, they’re really there, and you only have one shirt like that, so that’s got to be it.
Maybe you didn’t really bring them to the bathroom? Maybe your mom happened to sneak in here and couldn’t resist folding them? Those are better options to think about than possible insanity.
You get dressed in those clothes, and as you sit on the bed to put on your socks, a poster on the opposite wall catches your eye. It’s female beach volleyball players, and you’ve looked at it many, many times -- but now they have bright, vivid makeup on their faces, very obvious despite the sunglasses they’re also wearing. Closer examination shows that, of the spectators behind them, all the women in the stands have a similar look to their makeup.
You turn around to see your swimsuit and lingerie model posters. They all now had more colorful makeup, with glossy lips, vivid eyeshadow, even longer and lusher eyelashes.
Your blood runs a little cold, and suddenly you remember what you heard just as your alarm went off, the last words of a dream as you faded into wakefulness: “You have been given the power to do anything. Use these powers as you wish.”
You’re still gazing at one of your posters, a busty blonde in a bikini on a beautiful, deserted beach, now looking like she’s made up for a porn movie. You can only think of one thing...
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