Alan looked intently at the snowglobe with the man on a motorcycle inside. He could’ve sworn that just a moment ago he had been that man riding that motorcycle in a snowstorm. He was about to swerve, crash, and likely die, but instead he found himself here sitting in a chair. Had he imagined it all? Had it always been this woman? He didn’t remember being a woman, but he clearly was one. The only life he remembered was the one that seemed to exist only in his imagination while staring into the snowglobe.