Tiffany always slept in the nude. And that's exactly how she was, as she roamed the neighborhood in search of her new identity. But no one seemed to take notice of her.
She walked for at least five minutes, and then turned and walked into a house she had never seen before. She walked down the hall and turned into a bedroom. She still had no idea where she was or who lived in this house ... until she saw who was in the bed. It was that bible-thumping religious chick Nadine Ferguson. Tiffany hated her. Nadine constantly belittled her, calling her a sinner because she liked to sleep with guys. So what if Tiffany liked to have sex? It was none of this Nadine girl's business.
Tiffany walked straight to Nadine's closet and opened it. She frowned at all the plain and conservative clothing it contained, then shrugged her shoulders as she took out an outfit.
Nadine squirmed in bed, then woke up and yawned. But she didn't notice the naked intruder in her room. And Tiffany didn't pause from putting on Nadine's plain white underwear.
While Tiffany finished putting on her new clothing, Nadine headed to the bathroom. But just as Tiffany put a cross necklace around her neck, Nadine stopped in mid-step and her eyes glazed over. What was she doing? She couldn't remember. In fact, she couldn't really remember anything. Why was she in this house? This wasn't her house. Or was it?
Nadine did a one-eighty and walked down the hall and out of her house, dressed in a nightgown. She had to find a new identity.
