writing_shadows

The customer had been muttering something she hadn't understood, and when Lucie had served him, he'd clutched her hand - the one with the small scar. Lucie had stiffened warningly, and Rose went over to avert danger (just in case). She'd asked Lucie to go in the back for a little while, to wash up or something, and then had gently touched the man's shoulder to make sure he was okay. He left not long after that, and Rose cleaned up after him, taking his dishes into the kitchen.

There things got a little hazy.

Maybe she touched Lucie too? She wasn't sure, but she must have. A chill crept up her spine.

The chill stayed there. Still, she washed the dishes and went on about her evening. It wasn't even until she almost tripped on her long skirt that she realised she was wearing a skirt at all.

She hadn't been wearing one before.

Then she realised, now that she was paying attention, that her hand itched where the scar was. She didn't have a scar on her hand. She was always careful to-

Her eyes drifted to her skin. It was as pale as usual, but more sparkly, less...papery.

She heard a small screech and looked up to find herself staring at...herself. (Was that really what she looked like to other people?) Her face was flushed and she loomed more than Rose hoped she usually did. Was this why people sometimes didn't talk to her? Was this why Tor said he was intimidated by her?

"What have you done?" came coldly from her lips. It was surreal - yes, that was exactly the word, she thought clinically (and then wondered why she was thinking clinically; she never did that).

Still, that could be dealt with later. For now...

"...Sorry..." she said contritely in Lucie's voice.

Perhaps Rex Black would be able to help them find the man. If not, what would they do?