Who is this guy?

The voice belongs to a middle aged man, a bit overweight and rather average looking but the look of genuine concern in his face is sort of attractive, ‘What am I thinking?’ You think sitting up and scooting away from him. “Who are you?” You demand.

“Me?” He asks back pointing at himself, “Who are you? I live here. This is my pool you were using as a bath.”

“I… I guess I don't really know who I am?” You answer after a pause, “Something happened to me and I woke up not far from here caked in goop, when I saw your pool I had to try to clean up.” By the time you are done talking tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Awe don't cry, you seem to be physically okay, well I guess you weren't hairless before so there's that, but come on you look healthy enough for a little thing like you. I'll tell you what. Why don't you come inside. I'll make you a sandwich while you go take a real shower. Then we can call security or the hospital, or whoever you want, okay?” He asks holding his hand out to help you up.

As he mentions security you remember hearing something about your DNA being altered. If this is right if you call security your DNA won't be on file and you will be arrested as an illegal immigrant. Not to mention what they did isn't even possible. Or at least you didn't think it was. So convincing someone may not be easy, and that is assuming they didn't know or at least didn't care that you heard them. If they did it might all be a lie and the truth might be completely different. All that aside a sandwich and a shower seems like a great idea. “Okay.” You say taking his hand. Standing next to him you have to ask, “How tall are you?”

“I'm 6’1” why?”

“Just wondering, I was trying to figure out how much taller than me you were.”

“Oh, I don't know, like eight or nine inches I'd guess. You are what, like 5’4”, 5’3”?” He asks.

“For some reason I don't really know.” You say back.

“Must be head trauma. I don't see any bumps. You are squinting a lot, do you wear glasses?”

“I didn't yesterday but now I must, I think the goop hurt my eyes.”

“Terrible, just terrible. Come on in.” He leads you to the bathroom, pausing to point into an obviously unused room. “After your shower you can see if any clothes in here will work. My daughter left this here when she went off to school. She was a lot bigger than you, but I have to imagine you can find something to wear.”

“Thanks.” You then step into the bathroom.