Acting on a sudden, impulsive instinct, Nicholas grabbed the dice again and rolled them on the side table.
“Thirty years you have walked this Earth, now this number is but eighteen. Each roll of the dice returns more of what you have lost.”
“Shit!” Nicholas swore as the golden light appeared around him again. “I overshot it!” Twenties was one thing, eighteen was another. As the light faded and Nicholas was able to look at his reflection again, he knew without a doubt that he’d already completely botched things. Everyone would know there was something different about him, and that was if they actually recognized him, which wasn’t a given. He couldn’t run his company like this!
Nicholas picked up the package again to look at the return address. 0777 Restart Road? He’d never heard of it. But the GPS on his phone would be able to get him there. Nicholas picked up his car keys, then paused. His driver’s license was for a middle-aged man. If he got pulled over, who knew what would happen?
“Guess it’s walking,” he muttered to himself, setting his car keys back down. He could also take the bus, but he refused to do something like that. As he walked towards the door, his feet caught on the hem of his pants and he stumbled. Right. His clothes wouldn’t fit his eighteen-year-old body.
Luckily, his ex-wife Melissa had insisted he keep some of the kids’ clothes at his place. In case of emergencies, because that was the only reason the children might ever stay overnight at his penthouse. Nicholas went into the walk-in closet in his bedroom and pulled five boxes out of the back.
He immediately put aside the box for his two-year-old daughter Jocelyn, as well as the boxes for the six-year-old twins Bernadette and Bernard. The clothes in the box for his ten-year-old son William would also be too small. But hopefully he might fit in the clothes belonging to his eldest child, Margaret.
Nicholas pulled out a blouse. He knew without even trying it on that it would be too small. He should have known. He was now an eighteen-year-old boy, and Margaret was a fourteen-year-old girl. Nicholas sighed heavily. He could try to order some clothes, but even with the fastest, most expensive shipping, it would take time he didn’t want to waste. He could try to adjust his clothes enough to go to a clothing store. Or he could use the dice again, to make himself small enough to fit into Margaret’s clothes.