Everything was different, as if I’d left a well-marked highway for uncharted roads with unknown destinations. But there was also a sense of homecoming, too. When I’d stepped into Alyce’s body yesterday, adjusting to ordinary things like brushing my hair and putting on clothes made me feel like a toddler taking first steps. But this experience wasn’t bound by flesh or gravity. I wasn’t sure whether I was beside, above, or inside Alyce as I was swept inside her memories—part voyeur, part companion. Her long black hair danced in a thick braid, like a wild snake trying to catch us as we ran through the kitchen and hid under the table. It was strange how this table seemed so large, as if it had doubled in size since that afternoon. “It’s not the table that grew,” I realized as a new awareness of self settled over me. Alyce and I were together in her little girl body, giggling with impish delight. She was much younger, maybe four.
