I Want to Go

I pulled the towel over my body to cover myself. I wasn’t technically exposed, but I certainly felt that way. I wasn’t wearing anything that was atypical for a woman at the beach; the problem was that I hadn’t been a woman as recently as two minutes ago.

I looked over back at my own body. It seemed to be continuing as if nothing was wrong. Either I was now a copy of myself in this new body, or this woman was now in my body and very confident about it.

“Hey, Babe,” I heard a man’s voice say, “What’s wrong? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I want to go home,” I said, not really thinking about how much distance that would put between me and my own body.

“But we just got here.”

“I don’t care. I want to go.”