Checking In

You lie beside Clara in the gentle glow of your bedside lamp, her auburn hair fanned across your pillow. The sheets are tangled around your bodies, still warm from your lovemaking. Your fingertips trace idle patterns on her bare shoulder as the question that's been lingering in your mind finally finds voice.

"So it has been, what, two weeks since Mia became Matt again. And we have now been 'officially' dating for two weeks. Where are we? How are you?"

Clara shifts to face you, her green eyes searching yours. A soft smile plays at her lips as she considers the question.

"Honestly? I'm still processing everything," she admits, her hand coming to rest over your heart. "Some mornings I wake up expecting to see copper hair spread across my pillow instead of brown. It's... an adjustment."

She pushes herself up slightly, leaning on one elbow. "But a good one. I keep discovering new things about you—like how you hum in the shower when you think no one can hear, or how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you're truly laughing."

"And us?" you prompt, suddenly aware of how much her answer matters.

"Us is..." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Complicated in origin but surprisingly simple in execution. I like being with you, Matt. The real you. And yes, sometimes I miss certain aspects of Mia—your sensitivity to touch, how responsive you were to the smallest things—but then I discover something uniquely Matt that I adore."

Her fingers trail down your chest, tracing the outline of your pectoral muscle. "Like how solid you feel beneath my hands. How your voice rumbles when you whisper against my ear."

"I still feel her sometimes," you confess quietly. "Not physically, but...there are moments when I look at something, or react to something, and it's through her eyes. Her perspective."

Clara nods slowly. "That makes sense. You didn't just wear her body—you lived in it. Experienced everything through it. That changes a person."

She shifts closer, pressing her warm body against yours. "And what about you? Two weeks as Matt again. How does it feel?"

"Like coming home to a house where someone's rearranged all the furniture," you say after a moment's thought. "Everything's familiar but slightly different. I keep reaching for things at the wrong height, or expecting sensations that aren't there anymore."

Clara's hand slides lower, beneath the sheet. "And this? How does this feel now?"

Your breath catches as her fingers wrap around you, instantly responding to her touch. "Different. More focused, less...everywhere. But no less intense."

"Mmm," she hums approvingly, her thumb circling slowly. "And do you miss it? Being Mia?"

The question hangs between you, heavier than you expected. You take a moment before answering.

"Parts of it," you admit. "The freedom of it, sometimes. The novelty. But not enough to want to go back. This is who I am."

Clara smiles, leaning in to kiss you softly. "Then that's who I want."

As she slides her body atop yours, straddling your hips with practiced ease, you realize that despite—or perhaps because of—the bizarre journey you've shared, you've found something authentic in each other that transcends form entirely.

22:15 | Friday 15 August 2025 | Matt's Bedroom, Putney