Chapter 1.

Raymond had been looking forward to shooting hoops with Jerome all week. It was supposed to be a simple afternoon-grab a ball, trash-talk a little, sweat it out under the spring sun. But on his way to the court, Raymond made a detour. He’d always been curious about the strange device Jerome kept hidden in his garage: the Normalizer. Jerome had bragged about it once after a few beers, calling it a “reality tuner” that could tweak small things to make life smoother. Raymond figured he’d just make himself a little taller, maybe add a few inches to his vertical leap. Nothing crazy.

He stepped inside the sleek, metallic booth, fiddled with the controls using the half-remembered instructions Jerome had casually mentioned, and hit what he thought was the confirmation sequence.

A soft hum filled the air. Lights danced behind his eyelids. Then silence.

Raymond stepped out of the Normalizer and caught his reflection in the polished side panel of the machine.

He froze.

Staring back at him was not the 22-year-old guy with messy hair and basketball shorts. Instead, a middle-aged woman looked back-probably in her mid-50s, a few years older than his own mother. She had auburn hair in a bouffant style, and a face with fine lines around the eyes and mouth that spoke of decades lived. She wore a elegant mermaid-style sage-green dress that hugged her figure from the bodice down to the knees before flaring out dramatically toward the floor. Thin spaghetti straps rested on her shoulders, and on her feet were matching sage pumps with a modest three-inch heel. A delicate silver necklace rested against her collarbone, and her nails were painted a soft neutral pink.

Raymond’s mouth opened, but only a woman’s voice-warm, slightly husky, and utterly unfamiliar-came out.

“What the-? No. No, no, no!”

This was a catastrophic mistake. He wasn’t supposed to be old. He wasn’t supposed to be wearing a dress. He definitely wasn’t supposed to be a woman.

Panic surged through him. He spun around, ready to dive back into the Normalizer and undo whatever nightmare he’d created. But his new body moved differently-hips swaying involuntarily in the tight skirt, heels clicking uncertainly on the concrete floor. The dress restricted his steps to small, careful ones. He stared at the control panel, heart pounding. The last time he’d touched it, he’d turned himself into... this. What if he made it even worse? What if he erased himself completely?

Raymond swallowed hard. No. He couldn’t risk it.

The Normalizer belonged to Jerome. Jerome would know how to fix this. He had to.

With trembling hands (manicured hands, he noticed with a fresh wave of horror), Raymond pulled out his phone. Or rather, the phone that was now in the small clutch purse that had appeared with his new outfit. The contact list still had Jerome’s number, thank God. He hit call and pressed the phone to his ear, listening to it ring.

Jerome picked up on the third ring. “Yeah?”

“Jerome! Thank God. It’s me-Raymond. I... I screwed up bad with your Normalizer. I’m at your place right now and I’m... I’m not myself anymore. I’m this middle-aged woman in a freaking dress. You gotta help me fix it!”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Lady, I don’t know who you are or how you got my number, but this isn’t funny. I don’t have any ‘Normalizer’ and I sure as hell don’t know any Raymond who sounds like my mom’s bridge partner. Wrong number.”

“No, wait-Jerome, listen! It’s really me. We were supposed to meet at the basketball court today. I went into your garage, used the machine, and now reality’s all messed up. You don’t remember me because the Normalizer made this version of me ‘normal’ or something. Please, you have to believe me!”

Jerome’s voice turned cold. “Look, I don’t know what kind of prank this is, but I’m heading to the court right now. Don’t call me again, alright?”

The line went dead.

Raymond stared at the phone in disbelief. The Normalizer hadn’t just changed his body-it had rewritten reality so that this middle-aged woman version of him didn’t exist in anyone’s memory as Raymond. Jerome had no idea who he was.

He couldn’t fix this over the phone. He’d have to go to Jerome in person, show him... something. Explain face-to-face until his friend believed him. There was no other choice.

Taking a deep breath, Raymond smoothed the sage dress down over his unfamiliar curves and started walking toward the basketball court. The mermaid skirt forced him into a swaying, mincing gait. Every step in the three-inch pumps felt precarious; his ankles wobbled, and the fitted bodice made breathing feel different. The dress was far too formal-elegant, even glamorous-for a casual neighborhood walk. People driving by did double-takes. A couple of teenagers on bikes slowed down, smirking and whispering. Raymond kept his eyes forward, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He looked like he was on her way to a wedding or a fancy gala, not a pickup basketball game.

By the time he reached the court, his feet ached and his nerves were shot.

The basketball court was completely empty.