Tyler hadn’t meant to stop.

He was just passing through the grocery store, mentally checking off items on a short list, when something caught his eye down the aisle ahead-a woman in a satin top that caught the fluorescent light and black leggings that made her stand out against the muted shelves of canned goods and boxed pasta. It wasn’t just how she looked, though that was part of it. It was the way she stood, calm and self-contained, like she knew something no one else did.

Without quite deciding to, Tyler slowed… then stopped… then turned his cart into the aisle and began walking toward her.

He told himself it was nothing. Just curiosity. People watched people all the time.

She was facing away from him at first, examining something on the shelf. He got closer, his footsteps quiet against the polished floor. And then, just as he came within a few feet-

She turned.

Not casually. Not gradually.

Suddenly.

They were face to face, so close it startled him. Her eyes locked onto his with unsettling intensity.

“Do you like this body?” she asked.

Tyler blinked.

“What?”

It was such a strange question-so direct, so out of place-that his mind stalled completely. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure whether he’d misheard.

She tilted her head slightly, watching him as if studying his confusion.

“Because,” she continued, her voice even, “you don’t know me at all.”

Before he could respond-before he could even begin to process what she meant-the world seemed to… slip.

There was no flash of light. No sound. No sensation of movement.

Just a sudden, jarring shift.

Tyler staggered back a half-step, disoriented. The aisle looked the same. The shelves hadn’t changed. The hum of refrigeration units still filled the air.

But something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He looked down.

The first thing he noticed was the angle-his perspective slightly different, his center of balance unfamiliar. Then the satin fabric, smooth and soft, where his T-shirt should have been. The black leggings. The shape of his legs-longer, different.

His breath caught.

No.

He lifted his hands slowly, almost mechanically, staring at them. They weren’t his. Smaller. More delicate.

His pulse began to race.

He turned in a quick circle, scanning the aisle.

“Hello?” he called, his voice-wrong. Higher. Not his voice.

No one answered.

No one was there.