Six-year old Molly Stevens was playing with her dollies in the backyard of her house when the cloud quietly snuck up behind her and entered her body, unnoticed. If the cloud could have smiled, it would have. Anybody coming in close proximity to Molly would become like Molly in the same way that anyone who had come close to Zoe became like Zoe (the original Zoe).
"Molly, playtime's over," her mother said, peeking out the sliding door. "Time to come in."
"Awww, do I have to?" Molly whined.
"Yes, now come on. I made breakfast."
Molly whined some more. She wanted to play with her dollies. But she was hungry. Maybe she could just take a break. She dropped her dolls in the sandbox and headed towards the house.
