write-it-motherfuckers:

You knew something was wrong the second you woke, mainly because you had fallen off of the bed and onto the hardwood floors. Your apartment had neither of these, your own bed being a simple mattress on the floor, in a rather shitty, cold, concrete, apartment. This was almost the direct opposite.

Slowly you managed to stumble to your feet, looking around in bewilderment and fear, wondering if you had been drugged and kidnapped. You certainly felt disorientated and uncoordinated enough. It was only as you looked down at yourself, that you realised there was another reason for that. 

Shakily you stumbled over to the large mirror on the wall, taking in the strangers face and body that stared back at you. You had no idea who this person was, no idea why you were inhabiting their body. 

Needing a moment to calm down as you felt the familiar sensation of anxiety clawing up your chest and throat, you sank down onto the floor, hands absently kneading the plush rug below you, focusing on the texture of it as you tried to think. You were in a strangers home, in a strangers body, with no idea why or for how long you would be like this. Pausing for a moment, you chewed at your bottom lip. 

If you were here, in this strangers body, was the stranger in your apartment, and your body? 

Glancing around again, you frowned, wondering how they were taking it. This stranger was obviously in good health and quite well off, probably use to the finer things. How were they handling being in your position? How were you both meant to fix this? Could it be fixed?