"Hey, what the hell?" Melissa suddenly blurted out, looking down at herself. "What happened to my clothes?" They were suddenly different. Instead of her pink halter top, white pleated micro-miniskirt, and 4-inch strappy heels, she was wearing professional office clothes - a sensible white blouse, black skirt suit, and 3-inch black heels.
"Your clothes?" Gretchen asked. "Mom, there's nothing different about them."
Mom? she thought, confused. Why was she calling her that? She wasn't her mom. Or was she? She was certainly dressed like an adult, even though she didn't really feel like one. She was so confused. What was happening?
"Are you okay, Mrs. Wilson?" Amber asked. "Uh ... Mrs. Wilson?"
Melissa turned towards Amber. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yeah," Amber said. "You are Gretchen's mom, right?"
Melissa wasn't sure. She felt like she was losing herself to some other persona. "Uh ... yeah. Of course I am." Why did she say that? She wasn't Gretchen's mother. She was Gretchen's friend.
"So, uh, I'll see you later, Mom," Gretchen said, trying to get her out of there, feeling a little embarrassed having her mom hanging around.
"Oh, right," Melissa said, before turning and heading towards the parking lot.
When she finally arrived to a green sedan, she stopped and turned and looked back at the people milling about the school grounds. She was supposed to be getting to ... to ...
She wanted to say "class", but that didn't sound right. No, she needed to get to work. That's right. She looked back at the green car. That was her car. She drove her daughter to school today, because Gretchen had an early cheerleader practice. Now that she was done dropping off her daughter, she had to get to work. She fished out her car keys out of her purse and opened the car and got inside. Then she was off, driving downtown to ...
