Day After Day

The world blurred into existence, not with a gentle awakening, but with a jarring jolt of pain in my stomach. A parched throat and the metallic tang of bile rising confirmed the unpleasant reality: I was in a new body.

My fingers, strangely skeletal, traced the sharp protrusions of bones beneath thin skin. This wasn't just being thin; it was something else entirely. My reflection in the mirror above the white wooden dresser confirmed it: blonde hair streaked with pink and blue, eyes sunken, bones jutting out. An eating disorder. A shiver ran down my spine, a foreign coldness in this unfamiliar flesh.

I found a long floral dress and a black sweater, pulling them on to cover the stark reality of my new form. The kitchen counters were a scattered landscape of papers, a toaster and bread waiting. I popped in a few slices, buttering them with hands that felt alien. Just as I finished, another girl entered the apartment, her hair a messy bun held by pens and pencils.

"Can't remember the last time I saw you eat breakfast, Courtney," she chirped, her eyes widening in surprise. I forced a smile. "Thought I'd try it out." The words felt awkward on this new tongue.