The shrill ring of Phillip Kiely’s phone cut through the quiet stillness of his apartment at exactly 7:00 AM. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, he fumbled for his phone.

“Hello?” he croaked.

“Phillip! It’s Barbara. I need you to come over. Right now. Emergency.”

He blinked at the clock. “Barbara, it’s seven. In the morning. What kind of emergency happens before coffee?”

“My hair.”

There was a pause.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait! Please, just come over. I’ll explain everything. It’s time-sensitive. The salon opens at nine.”

Phillip groaned but recognized the tone in her voice---desperate and slightly crazed. Against his better judgment, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way across town.

***

When he arrived at Barbara Greenfield’s house twenty minutes later, she flung the door open before he even knocked.

“Come in,” she said, practically pulling him inside. “I don’t have much time.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, still rubbing his eyes. “You said something about hair?”

Barbara turned around and pulled off the headscarf she was wearing. Phillip recoiled slightly.

“Oh.”

It looked like someone had tried to recreate a sunrise on her head---and given up halfway through. Patches of light blond bled unevenly into copper streaks. Her roots were an angry red, and one side looked inexplicably darker than the other.

“I went to a new colorist yesterday. Worst mistake of my life,” she said. “I’ve got a wedding to go to tonight, and I absolutely can’t go looking like this. But I also have a work deadline. There's no way I can sit in a salon chair for six hours and finish my project in time.”

“So what do you want me to do?” he asked, though he already dreaded the answer.

“I need you to go to the salon for me. In my body. Get this fixed. Full dye correction and an elegant updo.”

Phillip stared at her, waiting for the punchline. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. I have a Shift Stone. It lets you swap bodies with someone. I’ve used it before. It’s safe, I swear.”

“Barbara. That’s insane. Body swapping isn’t real.”

“Oh, it is. And we don’t have time to argue.” She pulled a glowing blue orb from a velvet pouch and held it between them. “I’ll pay you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How much?”

“Two-fifty.”

He laughed once. “Nope.”

“Five hundred.”

“No.”

“Eight hundred.”

He turned toward the door.

“Fine! One thousand.”

He grabbed the knob.

“Two thousand!”

He opened it.

“Twenty-five hundred. Final offer.”

Phillip paused.

“Cash?”

She nodded quickly. “Already in my bag. Just please say yes.”

He groaned, turning back around. “This better not end with me on the news.”

Barbara smiled with relief and held out the orb. “Repeat after me…”

***

The room shimmered blue, the light growing brighter until Phillip had to shut his eyes. He felt a strange warmth slide over his skin like a breeze passing through him, rearranging, reshaping.

When the light finally faded, Phillip opened his eyes and blinked.

In front of him stood himself---his face, his hair, his lazy morning posture---blinking back at him from Barbara’s point of view.

But that wasn’t even the weirdest part.

“Oh God,” he muttered, hearing Barbara’s voice come out of his mouth.

He looked down.