I'm in bed and very different.

Emma is clinging to me like one of those koalas people take pictures of on vacation. I gently push her aside without waking her. She feels heavier than I expect. It's not strange for Emma to fall asleep in my bed. It is strange that I don't remember how we got home.

My head is pounding. I need some pain killers and a glass of water or eight ASAP.

I put my feet on the floor, but they're not my feet.

I look at my hands, touch my face.

Everything is different. Everything is wrong.

I grab at my shoulders and chest. I can feel it. This is my body, but it's not me.