She had a smile like a chain-link fence, a voice as deep as the ocean and a look in her eye that said she never knew what day of the week it was. Instantly forgettable in a crowd, but taken on her own she was a fine example of DNA going beyond the call of duty. Neither beautiful nor ugly. Just a testament to nature's unrivalled skill at genetic engineering.

When she said I had until the count of ten I could see she wasn't bluffing, but I could also see the safety was still on. I waited until she got to ten. I'm a patient man afterall. She pulled the trigger and her face went from nought to panic in less than a second.

I wrestled the gun from her hands and lunged at her with my shoulders, knocking us both down the concrete steps. As I should have expected, we both got struck by lightning. The forecast had hinted at storms in the east.

When I got to my feet I could see that the gun was still in my hand, but my hands were no longer my own. We'd switched bodies. She unclipped the safety and raised the gun to my old head. Bang! It was quite an assumption to think that she'd return to her original body if her new host body was killed and you know what happens when you assume; you destroy your host body and your opponent gets to live on and keep your old body whilst you spend the rest of your life dead. No, wait, that's wrong, you make an ass out of u and me.

Alex, Someone Else's Body.

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