The next day dawned with some trepidation for Daniel in Emily’s body. She woke up, for a fleeting moment, wondering if everything from the previous day had been a bizarre dream. However, once again, as she sat up in bed - the reality of her situation settled upon her. Yet, she was aware of an unfamiliar sense of acceptance, perhaps even calm - as if something within Emily’s body accepted this reality in a way Daniel’s consciousness hadn’t.
Getting dressed was another adventure in itself. Emily’s hands seemed to move with a surprising, almost instinctive ease, as though fingers knew what they were doing before her mind could catch up. She settled on a simple polo and khaki outfit, her reflection in the mirror a constant reminder of the small body she now inhabited. "I hope this is acceptable school wear," she mused, missing the casual dark attire of Daniel’s time.
Downstairs, breakfast was a hurried affair. Sarah and Thomas were already at the table, sipping coffee and exchanging morning pleasantries. Daniel had been a frequent coffee drinker, and Emily initially reached for a cup out of habit.
However, at the last second, she felt her hand unconsciously shift and reach for the orange juice instead, as if a new set of preferences were subtly, and automatically asserting themselves. That, and the unusualness of a young child consuming coffee.
As she nibbled on her toast, her mind raced with questions about school and how she would navigate the day ahead.
"Ready for your first day?" Sarah asked with a reassuring smile as she handed Emily a backpack filled with school supplies.
Emily nodded hesitantly, her stomach churning with nerves. Her interactions with Sarah had built some faith in this parental unit. Watching Thomas smile and gently nod at Emily brought some comfort—a warmth Daniel hadn’t experienced in decades.
Emily followed Sarah and Thomas out to the car, the familiar routine of school drop-offs a distant memory from her adult life as Daniel. She instinctively moved toward the driver’s seat, out of habit but halted mid-motion, quickly moving to the passenger seat. “Yeah…would be a bit weird if I started driving…” she chuckled to herself in spite of everything.
The drive to school was quiet as Emily stared out the window, watching the streets pass by in a blur. She felt like an imposter, unsure of how to act or what to say.
Yet, something about this routine didn’t seem entirely alien either— there seemed to be a part of her that recognized the sights and sounds exhibiting a level of familiarity that wasn’t Daniel’s.
Sarah walked her to the entrance, her hand reassuringly on Emily's shoulder. "Have a great day!" Sarah said softly, leaning down to give Emily a quick hug.
Emily nodded, her throat tight with emotion. She watched Sarah leave with a mixture of longing and fear, her eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of familiarity—objects, people, anything to provide a temporary anchor.
Walking through the main school gates at the school, Emily was greeted by a sea of children rushing to their classrooms and once again - she felt a flicker, a subtle sense of excitement that didn’t belong to Daniel. Emily’s body responded without his conscious effort, following the flow of children instinctively.
Eventually, she followed a few children who seemed to be her age toward what she hoped was her classroom. Realizing that as Daniel, she had been in much more ambiguous situations than finding a classroom gave a small but much-needed boost of confidence. She thought of the countless times Daniel had navigated unfamiliar corporate environments, tense meetings, and new office politics. Compared to those stressful experiences, finding a classroom should be less challenging - or so she hoped.
Eventually, she arrived at what she suspected was her classroom and was directed inside by a friendly teacher. "Hello there, you must be Emily. Welcome to second grade,I’m M/s Meredith!" the teacher said warmly, beckoning her inside.
Emily nodded mutely, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. ‘M/s Meredith…’ Emily thought with a small chuckle, “this was quite a contrast from Daniel’s usual colleague names in his previous universe - Matt, Chris, Bob, Dave, Paul - far more stern sounding names.” At the same time she couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief and even victory at successfully navigating her first navigational challenge outside her house.
She took a seat near the back of the room, her eyes darting around nervously. The other children glanced at her curiously, some whispering amongst themselves. A pang of anxiety hit Emily and the Daniel within desperately hoped that no one would approach her to start a conversation about memories she no longer possessed. Thankfully, no one did.
—
The room was bright and colorful, a stark contrast to the sterile, monochromatic cubicles Daniel was accustomed to. As Emily's eyes scanned the walls, filled with artwork and colors, a faint sense of joy bubbled up—one that Daniel wouldn't have typically felt.
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Posters of alphabets, numbers, and cheerful drawings adorned the walls. There was a large bulletin board displaying students' artwork, each piece radiating the innocence and creativity of childhood. Bookshelves lined one side of the room, filled with what appeared to be picture books and early readers. The scent of what Emily believed were crayons filled the air, evoking memories of a simpler time.
Significantly more welcoming than Daniel’s corporate offices, the classroom felt like a haven. The desks were arranged in neat rows, each one personalized with a name tag and colorful decorations. Emily couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the days when Daniel's biggest worry would have been finishing a book report or art class.
She became aware of an odd sense of familiarity with the decor in the room —a subtle recognition that wasn’t entirely while the Daniel within was observing, something deeper was appreciating.
Throughout the morning, Emily struggled to focus on the lessons. The material was simple enough, but her adult mind rebelled against the childishness of it all. She answered questions hesitantly, her voice small and uncertain, but she answered them. Perhaps more out of instinct than thought.
As she listened to the teacher explain basic math concepts, her thoughts drifted back to Daniel's days filled with complex technical reports, voltage and amperage calculations, and project deadlines. How different her life had become.
The quiet chatter and rumble of children murmuring, pencils scraping, and the teacher instructing eventually allowed Emily to settle into an automatic rhythm—her mind distracted by the lessons at hand. Daniel’s world had been virtual meetings, angry customers, and even more angry managers—Emily’s certainly seemed less hostile.
There was a certain peace, an odd sense of safety in the simple rhythm and predictability of the classroom, one that Daniel’s mind was starting to appreciate, though not entirely understand.
As she watched the other children engage with the lessons, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at their innocence and eagerness to learn. It was a stark reminder of the resilience and adaptability of children. Despite everything, she found herself absorbing the material, her adult knowledge blending seamlessly with the simplicity of an elementary-grade education. There was something strangely comforting about relearning the basics, perhaps a chance to potentially rebuild her foundation and confidence from the ground up.
At recess, Emily found herself standing alone by the jungle gym. The other children played tag and hopscotch, their laughter echoing through the playground. Emily watched them with a pang of loneliness, wondering what her immediate future entailed.
The Daniel within Eily hesitated, feeling the awkwardness of not fitting in, of not quite remembering how to play these games, but there was a more urgent pull from deep within, urging her, desperately wanting to join in the escapade.
"Hi!" A cheerful voice broke through her thoughts. Emily turned to see a girl with curly red hair and freckles approaching her. Her smile was infectious, and her eyes sparkled with friendliness. "Do you want to play with us?"
Emily hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Sure." Her response came quicker than intended, a small surrender to Emily’s instincts.
The girl grinned and introduced herself. "I'm Lucy. Come on, let's play tag!"
For the first time that day, Emily felt a glimmer of hope. She joined Lucy and the other children in their game, her initial awkwardness gradually giving way to genuine enjoyment. A flicker of memory that wasn’t Daniel’s nudged her forward—an instinct that told her she had played these games before.
How long had it been since Daniel had been able to truly let go, have some genuine fun, and live in the moment? Emily remembered how during Daniel’s childhood—the smallest object, the most mundane natural feature, even a tree—let him just be at peace. Make-believe play was so much more fun than being constantly attached to a smartphone. As she ran, laughed, and stumbled in the games, Daniel felt a weight shifting —a rare moment of joy that her new body, and the soul or souls that comprised this body welcomed eagerly.
Lunchtime brought a brief reprieve. Emily sat at a table with several classmates, their chatter a comforting background noise. She picked at her school-provided lunch, her appetite diminished by the weight of her thoughts and the unappetizing nature of the food. The taste of overly processed cheese and soggy bread made her long for the simple, homemade meals she could barely recall from Daniel’s earlier, happier days.
However, kids are resilient if anything—and adult mind or not, Emily benefitted from that resilience. As the afternoon wore on, Emily's initial nervousness gave way to a quiet determination. She participated more actively in class discussions, her curiosity outweighing her self-doubt. She occasionally used her adult knowledge to answer more complex questions, earning approving smiles from her teacher. Each nod and smile from the teacher felt like a small victory—a validation that Daniel had long craved but rarely received.
Yet, as the day wore on, it became clear that Emily’s body had a rhythm, a familiarity with the routines, that Daniel’s mind couldn’t entirely account for. She found herself acting without thinking, as though responses were automatic with an undertone of familiarity one couldn’t place. Sometimes it simply felt as if her body moved on its own accord, and she struggled to understand why.
By the end of the day, she had made a tentative friend or two, or at least friendly acquaintances, their smiles offering a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty. As she walked toward the school entrance, there was an odd sense of peace—something within her settling into this new life, even if Daniel’s mind couldn’t quite follow.
The final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Emily gathered her belongings and headed out to meet Sarah, her steps substantially lighter than they had been that morning. She climbed into the car, a sense of accomplishment mingling with the lingering apprehension.
"How was your first day?" Sarah asked, her eyes full of concern.
Emily smiled weakly, unsure of how to express the mountain of feelings into words. "It was... different," she finally replied, her voice tinged with both exhaustion and relief.
--
As they drove home, Emily stared out the window at the scenery in a daze. She thought about the day's events, about the challenges and the small victories. Maybe this universe could be her home for however long she was here? Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the Daniel part of her remained in control, something else, something quieter, was growing stronger, was waking up again within her.