She hurried down the street to talk to her."Excuse me, can you tell me where I am," she asked, when she got close?The woman turned quickly, an older woman in her sixties, holding the broom and beating the rug. There was a look of surprise on her face and her jaw fell open, but the girl was equally surprised at the look of the old woman. Her skin wasn't pale and pink, but instead the old woman was blue. It wasn't a deep, bright blue like in the movies, but a pale turquoise blush as if someone had airbrushed pale paint onto her skin."You've got all the nerve," the woman suddenly screamed at her, "thinking you can talk to me!" Without any hesitation the woman ran at her, swinging the broom so that the handle caught her across the temple and she ran panicked as the woman chased her. She was younger and was able to outdistance the old lady, who ran behind her still swinging the broom."Get the hell out of her you little, pink whore! Keep your filthy cunt away from me," the old woman. ." I said, thoughit sounded like I was shrieking about a Justin Bieber video. At that, asmall cyclone began to develop around my legs. I looked down in horroras the wind enveloped at first my ankles, then my waist, and traveledupwards. I struggled against it, but it tossed me around my chairfuriously. Soon I couldn't see and couldn't hear either. The windroared around my head and as quickly as it had encircled me it was gone. My office was a mess of papers and strewn books, and there in the centerMorgana remained.Having read some of Morgana's unpublished research papers, I knewinstantly that her findings were false. She had described people beingchanged and then only slowly becoming aware of the change, but I knew itinstantly. My heart was pounding and I swallowed hard. "Oh my god!" Itsounded like I was squealing in delight, but the intent was pure terror.I saw in the mirror I kept at the back of my office door that I was now arather tiny woman. I had a round, vaguely Asian.
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