She sits in front of the vanity mirror with a bunch of Louis Vuitton stuff scattered all over the place, staring and sulking and looking extremely worn. Her sulking does not look half as bad though... because her face is not her face. Damnit. Has she been wasting the entire morning sitting there sulking most handsomely? Uhh, no? She has been out and about, driving all over the city. And where does she end up? Back here. Back where she started.

Earlier this morning, after the first three shocks and a half, she decided to do something. She needed to talk to someone... or she would probably go nuts and run herself into the wall a few more times. She needed to confirm things... lots and lots of things. Like... where the was here? Those kind of things. 

Let us go back in time a little bit (because I prefer writing in present tense).

So, after making up her mind about doing something, she strides over to the window, yanks open the curtains, and stares out through the large glass panels. What does the outside look like? It looks like any big, fuzzy metropolitan area. She should probably go down and take a closer look at the street signs. She moves across the room, occasionally tripping over stuff. God, these legs. They are too damn long. Her perception is all wacky now, too... because she is super tall now compared to her usual short and compact self. Oh, not to mention these eyes need glasses or contacts or something... to see clearly. The world is a little blurry... aside from being crazy. She shuffles around, searching for them... glasses or contacts. Thank goodness the black frames are easy to spot... or maybe she just got lucky. After slapping on the pair of glasses, the fuzzy feeling slowly dissipates. Okay, okay... she can kind of think clearly now. She is going outside to see how much the world has changed. Probably a lot... because hell... her body changed... a lot. Before heading out into the unknown concrete jungle, she must find proper gear and arm herself well. This could be the apocalypse. There could be people eating zombies roaming like nomads out there. She digs through all the stuff in the house like a treasure hunter and discovers some very interesting objects... like rhinestone covered skulls and and winged daggers with the words "Keep the Faith" engraved on it. After ransacking every single room, she comes to the conclusion that a cult member lives here... a punk rock-ish cult member.

And then, it hits her... like a bolt of lightning. She is a member of a cult now. Great.

So... do cult members own cars? They do, right? She is pretty sure she saw something that vaguely resembled a car key remote. Ah, there it is. Her hand swoops down. Not quite as quick as her other hand... you know, the one attached to her previous body.

After throwing on some questionable clothing, she stuffs the phone, daggers, and wallet into her pocket. Wait... wallet? So... there's an identification card in it, right? Yeah... there sure is... but it does not do much good. What does she learn from the card? That she is a guy... born on January 26th... oh, and that she is probably Korean now, too.

Wow, she can read Hangul? If only she is that awesome and cool... but no. She knows it is Hangul because of the circles. That is how she tells the difference between certain Asian writing. Korean is circles. Japanese is hooks and simplicity. Chinese is... well, she knows Chinese characters... pretty damn well.

Anyway, she has a ton of fun finding the car. Walk, walk. Press the button. Listen. Walk, walk. Press the button. Listen. Once she finds the car, she takes it for a drive, explores the new world... and comes back. Thank goodness the car knows its way home. Oh, and the code lock on the house door is also the same as her own. How convienent... but what are the odds? 

And now... now she is sitting in front of the vanity mirror, staring and sulking and looking extremely worn. What has she learned from her little adventure into the outside world? That people like to stare... and stare and stare and stare. That they seem to understand her when she asks for directions to the airport, but when they start speaking... she has no ing clue. They speak in another language... probably Korean... and she does not know one single word of it.

Well... actually that is a lie. She knows one Korean word... 'hi.'

While she continues to sulk, the phone suddenly makes a racket. Oh, ... that better be her phone calling. Please be her phone.

And... what do you know, it is.

Is the person going to speak up this time? Or... are they going to hang up on her for the third time?