The man is walking down the busy street feeling the nagging calls of his several addictions. Taking a sip of his Starbucks he smirks as he notices several of those around him cast longing glances at the beverage. It's not something he can do every day, and usually he foregoes the drink, instead opting to get coffee at work for free.
Having his coffee, he now wants his cigarette. Well actually, what he really wants is some weed but he is headed to his crappy job and can't afford to show up stoned. He glanced at his phone to check the time before ducking into an alleyway to get some nicotine, feeling his other craving begin to scream at him.
He's 27 and has two young kids, both accidents but that's life right? He loves music, art, and each one of his tattoos. He loves his kids and is making it work. He's still young, despite his hairline beginning to show a little more forehead than he remembered and is optimistic that he will figure things out.
After a few drags he was done and had to continue to work, he started smoking at 16 and was over a pack a day, he justified it by saying he doesn't always smoke the whole cigarette, but more often than not, that wasn't the case.
A wave of desperate need washed over him, his unsated addiction calling out to him. He can ignore it for a while, like needing to pee, but eventually it has to happen. He was overdue on feeding the need, yesterday was a trip to the zoo with the kids and a quiet night with a movie, followed by bath time and bedtime stories. He went to bed early himself, exhausted, and a busy normal morning full of breakfast, getting dressed, dropping the kids off. "UGH" another wave made him grab his stomach. Soon he wouldn't be able to help himself but the question was how long he had. A day? Hours? Minutes?
He weaved his way back into the flow of pedestrians already wishing he had time for another cigarette, and sipping his coffee instead. His eyes began darting from person to person, summing them up. Businessman, college kid, that guy looks homeless...
"Gotta make it through..." he whispered to himself, "It might pass, maybe I can get another day." His children's faces flashed in his mind and the desire subsided. "I've got this." he said feeling an iota of control. He continued toward the bus stop barely taking note of the people around him. A cute chick in a suit, countless unnoteworthy average folks.
His eyes meet those of a teen with a backpack as they are walking opposite directions. , The kid is too young for college and should probably already be in class... An overwhelming resurgence of his deprived desire strikes out and he grabs the boys arm, not roughly, just suddenly, and just like that the urge is gone.
"Aw shit man, I'm sorry." the man says to the confused and slightly concerned boy apologetically. "I didn't mean to..." He looked down at his arm as the ink in his skin evaporated away. The boy looked down intrigued as as a tattoo formed itself on his right arm, crawling its way up toward his shoulder. He was so captivated that he didn't notice his book=bag and clothes dematerialize. "Its gonna be okay... life is good." the man reassured the boy as strange memories pushed his familiar life away.
The naked boy's weight redistributed as he grew taller and leaner, a small belly covered his abdomen as memories of partying throughout his late teens and early twenties became focusing on childcare and eating only what he could find when he could take the time. The face was the last thing to finish changing as beard stubble pushed its way out of the boys face making it impossible to mistake him for a teenager. ("Damn I forgot to shave!") Once the physical and mental changes finished, clothes reappeared.
The (new) man looked at his cell phone and cursed the time, he wanted a cigarette but needed to hurry to the bus stop several blocks away. He looked up getting his bearings and realized he was somehow facing the wrong direction. He turned and headed to the bus stop.
The boy (formerly man) shifted his bookbag uncomfortably realizing he had been walking with his father. He hurried to catch up and find his dad, the rest of the world never notices when the switch happens, which is why people weren't screaming or calling the cops.
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**Backstory**
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I made this wish, it was a stupid wish... At least I think it was a wish. It was so long ago... They say the perspective an individual has of time is based on new experiences. as a child, everything is new, and so time seems to take forever to pass. as you get older, less and less things are new, so time seems to fly by.
Well, three years ago, for me, feels like 1-3 millennia. I have pondered, imagined, replayed and considered that night so much that I don't really remember what happened, not to mention the memories.
If I recall correctly, I came home from school and found a package, it was addressed to my dad who worked as a clerk at a museum. There was something inside... and... I... I think I was offered a wish. Or maybe I answered a riddle wrong? Or... well, it really doesn't matter if I said, "I wish for new experiences" or I answered a question wrong and something decided "you should learn more."
I felt weird, but would later come to recognize the feeling. My dad and I argued about me going into his things. later we made up, then we hugged, and then I was him. From that point on every day or two I need to switch bodies with someone. It's always been a guy I swapped with, which is why I think it may have been a wish of some kind to be a more experienced guy, or maybe... I've spent so many hours thinking on this.
The person I swap with never remembers who they were, only who they are, and both of us can easily and immediately fall into each-others lives. I became my dad, and the next day swapped back with my son thinking It was over... but it wasn't. The next day I became my neighbor's 6 year old son, then myself again, then one of my neighbors, then myself... I was able to keep this up until I couldn't help but become a coworker of somebody on the street were I was growing up.
I have lifetimes of memories. I was 14 and should be 17 by now. Instead of going through high school, Ive been bankers and burglers, con-men and college students, dads and dealers. Each life I fall into, no matter how mundane, got there through an infinite series of choices. When I am them I can feel how they think, why they think like that and so on. Am I ready to stop this? I was... but I'm not so sure any more, I'd like to know how to stop it, but I don't recall being a butler or the billionaire he serves.
I'd like to say I can become someone and do whatever I want, but when I become them I want to do what they want to do. Only after anywhere between 2 to 18 hours do my thoughts start to differentiate from theirs. So you understand why I try to stay in the body as long as possible, its the time I get to have a little more control, like waking up from a peaceful dream where you know you are sleeping, its still hard to do things completely out of character, but I can make decisions using my knowledge instead of theirs. Like when I used lifeguard knowledge to save my... the son of a man who would have otherwise just sat there crying.