Tim blinked and looked around with confusion.
He was no longer in Paul's attic.
Instead he was in a strange living room, sitting in a plastic covered recliner and holding a large-print
edition of some trashy romance novel.
Nervously Tim looked around the room: everywhere, he saw doilies, lace, nicknacks, and various family photos
of people he'd never seen before in his life.
As Tim looked around the room, he realized he was seeing the room through the lenses of a pair of heavy,
remarkably thick glasses. Pulling the glasses off his face, he found the room became an unfocused blur... so
he quickly put them back on.
“That's weird,” he said softly to himself.
Then he looked down at himself and really began to panic.
Although Tim was still completely himself physically, he was now dressed in the clothes of some old lady. He
wore a pearl necklace around his throat, a badly faded flower-print, cream-colored dress that hung down to
just below his knees, a pair of tan colored support pantyhose around his legs, and a pair of scuffed, black,
low-heeled orthopedic shoes on his feet. Beneath the dress, he felt the strange and uncomfortable sensation of
wearing a stiffly wired, utilitarian bra and a pair of plain granny panties.
Quickly standing up from the plastic-covered chair, Tim realized his body was stiff and his joints ached
painfully.
“What's happening to me?” he said aloud.
He slowly shuffled to the other end of the living room where a decorative mirror hung on the wall. Gazing into
the mirror, he saw the reflection of a short, white-haired woman who seemed to be in her seventies.
“This isn't really happening,” Tim said softly.
Was it just his imagination or did he voice sound a little creaky and high-pitched now?
He looked around the room for some clue to his new identity. On a nearby end table was a stack of mail, all of
it addressed to Mrs. Evelyn Campbell.
“I guess that's me,” Tim said glumly. “Paul's stupid magic spell really worked. I can't believe it.”
What next?