“Jane, I’m in a really Tight Spot,” said Hunter cupping the mouthpiece of the old pay phone. “I’m being framed and I can’t see any way out of it.”
“You swear to me your innocent,” said Jane, sitting down at her desk. “I won’t help a murderer no matter what.”
“Yes, yes, I won’t bullshit you Jane. I don’t know how that bloody knife got in my gym bag. And I can’t go to Jail. Will you help me.”
“Ok Hunter, go find a place to stay and keep low. Look for a note from me in the morning.”
“Won’t you need to know where I am,” he asked.
“Oh no Hunter,” she smiled, looking at the Old Typewriter on her desk, “I’ll find you.”
The next morning, Hunter found a strange envelope slipped under his door, addressed to him in type written letters, he opened it up and read the paper inside. ‘Hunter, if you’re truly innocent, then take the form and identity of someone you've fantasized about and live their life …’
Hunter dropped the paper and felt his body shrinking, collapsing on itself. His body hair fell away, leaving his skin smooth, his hair lengthened, his hips widened, and his stomach shrank leaving a trim and tiny waist. Breast sprouted from his chest, and his clothing changed. He felt tights snaking up his legs, knee high boots forming on his feet, and a sweater flowing over his frame.
Hailey came to leaning against the building, her purse in her hand. She couldn't remember exact ally how she’d gotten here but the coffee shop next door smelled wonderful and she had time before work. Shouldering her purse, she went to grab an espresso.
