I was all alone nearly 10 miles above the Earth.

Friday night found Amanda Evans perched on the edge of her bed, facing the large mirror on the opposite wall. Her dark blonde hair had been wrangled into a

passable braid; she had tried to teach herself simply by watching her mother do her own hair, but had not quite gotten the hang of it yet. Amanda had draped

herself in an overlarge college tee of her father’s, a makeshift nightgown. Her new, smaller frame was pronounced by the fact that the shirt hung down to her

knees. Mere days ago the shirt would have comfortably fit Peter. Not Peter, Amanda chastised herself, me. I am still Peter inside, aren’t I? However, she could

no longer be so sure of this. She could not lie to herself; she had made no attempts to undo the life-changing transformation and become Peter again. Referring

to Peter in the third person seemed completely natural.

Jason had been walking down the hallway at work when he spotted a woman swaying from side to side in front of him. He ran to catch her, barely doing so as he did. She had opened the door, mostly, to a seldom used handicapped washroom. He finished pulling the woman inside as the door closed behind them.

Inside he maneuvered the woman onto the only seat in the washroom which was the toilet seat that he flipped down using one foot. His men's dress shoe fell off in the process.

"Lady? Are you alright?" He asked as he maneuvered her onto the toilet seat as best he could.