“I don't want to!”

“I don't see why not. She owns a lovely house. She is married to a man who loves her dearly. She keeps in shape and takes yoga. In the next semester, she is taking a cooking class and a fashion trends class. Look at the course description, it 'examines significant cultural phenomena that shape new sensibilities in fashion.' Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“But I'm not a woman. I don't want her life.”

“It could be worse. It could be much worse.”

“That doesn't mean anything. Why do I have to become someone else?”

“You just do.”

“Who says so?”

“Me! Now go over there!”

He didn't have any choice in the matter, he would have to take her life. No, he wouldn't kill her. She would go on living, but she wouldn't be herself. He would be her. He would be Mrs. Lauren Carlson. He didn't want to be her any more than she wanted to be him. But they would become each other. That is how the world would see them.

He rang the bell.

“Who is it?”

“Delivery.”

“I didn't order anything,” Lauren said as she opened the door.

He pushed by her and inside her house.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this. I really didn't,” he tried to explain.

Lauren was a tall (she was approximately five foot eight and 125 pounds) pretty young woman about thirty years old. She had chestnut brown hair in a shaggy bob style with brown eyes and an oval face. She was wearing a floral knit surplice V-neck top with flutter sleeves and an elastic waist that flared underneath. Below the top, were mid-rise straight legs five-pocket pants in an almond wash. On her feet were brown flats.

A woman whose house was being violated like this might worry about being raped, but Lauren didn't think that. Especially after he apologized.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” she yelled.

But Lauren had been pushed into the interior of her own house and the door had closed behind them. No one heard her shouts.

“I can't. I didn't want to do this, but I can't help it. Now listen, your name is Charles Gugliuzza.”

My name is what? You're nuts get out of here. I'm calling the police!”

“Go ahead. Remember, when they ask you. Your name is Charles Gugliuzza.” Charles told Lauren. He didn't seem menacing anymore. He took a seat on the couch. Charles looked around at the surroundings: the walls, the carpet, the furnishings.

“I'll do it. I'll call the police. I'm warning you, get out.”

“Go right ahead.”

Lauren picked up a cordless phone and dialed 9-1-1. Charles didn't move to stop her.

“Hello, police? Oh. I need the police. Someone broke into my house and won't leave. I'm Lauren Carlson, I live at . He's right here. He won't leave. Just sitting on the couch. Send someone quick!”

“They'll be here in two minutes,” Lauren informed Charles.

Soon enough the police arrived. Lauren ran to the door and let them in.

“There he is officer. He won't leave!”

The officer looked at Lauren, she didn't look like a woman to them. She looked like a man in drag. Lauren was wearing makeup and a feminine top, her pants might be men's or women's, but it was hard to tell.

Charles got up from the couch and gave the officers a look indicating that this 'man is crazy.'

To the officers, if there was a woman here, the woman would be Charles. She might be wearing more unisex apparel and no cosmetics, but she was definitely a woman.

“What's going on?”

“I'm Lauren Carlson and he broke into my house.”

Charles shook his head without saying anything.

“You are? Do you have identification?”

“I certainly do. Wait, aren't you going to do something? Arrest him!”

“ID first.”