James wobbled into the booth. It wasn't a huge space, but it was full, every surface stacked with bottles and boxes, dreamcatchers and windchimes. Amidst it sat a woman, of ambiguous age, blonde hair in matted dreadlocks, piercings in her ears and on her brows.
One brow arched as James entered. "Well well, what have we here?"
James had no choice but to explain, humiliated at having to regale this stranger with his tale. All the while, she simply stared, with a judgemental eye.
"Well, son," she eventually said, reaching forward. James flinched, thinking his tits were about to be grabbed. "This is what did it. Every 12 hours, you'll change, depending on what you touch." What different path fate would take if she'd only realised the exact nature of the enchantment, that he'd be back to normal if he only touched his own clothes. Or perhaps she knew, and felt the creep deserved a little punishment. "And it's a nasty enchantment too. It'll stay with you, until it decides to leave. Or a stronger enchantment supplants it."
She led James to a golden disc. "This? This will let you take a chance. It'll send you somewhere deserving. Maybe you deserve to be sent to a timeline where this never happened. Maybe fate thinks you merit something worse. But it's up to you. Otherwise, you'll need to find someone else to help you."