The start of the day.

After getting dressed and doing your hair, you admired yourself in the mirror. You could do this, you thought, after all, you'd survived one day... kind of, you took a deep breath.

As you descended the stairs, the creaking of the steps beneath your feet seemed to echo through the silence, making you wince in anticipation of your father's reaction. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, searching for any sign of him, but it was just your mother - in your body - sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. The sight was still jarring, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as you took in the familiar yet alien features.

Your mother - or rather, you - looked up as you entered, and a faint smile played on her lips. She set the cup down, the ceramic making a soft clinking sound as it touched the saucer. The smile on your lips grew slightly wider, and you felt a pang of discomfort at seeing your own face express emotions that weren't yours. "Hey," she said, her voice warm and familiar, yet somehow off, like a melody played on the wrong instrument. "Your dad's already left for work. He had an early meeting." The words were a gentle breeze on a summer day, soothing and calming, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered beneath the surface.

As your mother finished speaking, she pushed the chair back, the legs scraping softly against the floor. The sound was a gentle intrusion into the stillness of the morning, and you felt a slight twitch in your fingers, as if your body was responding to the noise, even though it wasn't yours to control. Your mother stood up, her movements fluid and familiar, yet somehow wrong, like a well-rehearsed dance performed by the wrong person. She picked up her bag, the straps slumping over her shoulder - your shoulder - in a way that made you feel a pang of disorientation.

"Well, guess I gotta do college," she sighed, "And try talk to Emily, she's a nice girl..."

Your thoughts flashed back to walking in on Emily sucking your mothers dick, your dick. You felt jealousy, as you weren't the one who could enjoy it.

"What will I do?" you ask, not really wanting to just sit around.

"There's always next door," she winked.

Your thoughts fell back to what she'd mentioned yesterday, your neighbour, Jamie, the black neighbour, had been having an affair with your mother.

Your mother's words hung in the air, a sly suggestion that lingered long after she'd spoken. She smiled to herself, a knowing glint in her eye, as she slung her bag over her shoulder - your shoulder. The straps settled into the familiar groove, a constant reminder of the body she now inhabited. With a final glance at you, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, the soft thud of her feet on the floor echoing through the silence.

You watched her go, your eyes fixed on the empty space she'd left behind as her words lingered in your mind. The sound of the front door opening and closing was a gentle punctuation mark, a signal that she was truly gone, now it was just you, alone in the house.