After Jon sat motionless for another fifteen minutes or so, the doorbell rang. His hopes were lifted as this could have been is chance to get the hell out of there.
Mrs. Wilson walked to the front door, from wherever she was, and opened it. A slightly heavy-set black woman came in, dressed in nurse's attire. The nurse. Great, Jon thought, sort of hoping that he'd change before he'd have to get any treatment from her.
"Hello, Mrs. Wilson," the nurse said. Jon noted her accent, which was clearly Jamaican. Jon chuckled to himself. What was more stereotypical than a Jamaican nurse?
She walked into the TV room towards Jon. "And how are we tonight, Mista Gibson?"
When she got close enough, Jon began to change.
"Jon," she said in a low, but angry, voice. "Get outta that chair. Just because I let you come on my rounds, doesn't mean you can just make yourself at home."
Jon leapt up out of the chair. It felt so good to not hurt when he moved around. When he landed on his feet, though, he got a surprise. Dreadlocks bounced off his face. He ran to the mirror in the hall and saw himself. He was black! Presumably Jamaican, like the nurse. He never imagined that his ethnicity could change, he thought only his age or lifestyle. But it really didn't bother Jon. He wasn't an old man anymore. He was free! Now he could go see Karyn to get his own reality back and get the stone to fix all this.
He was about to run out the door, but the nurse grabbed him before he could.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"Huh?"
