"It has been one week since the United Nations made first contact and peace talks between our people and the aliens seem to be progressing smoothly. The pres-" I close the live youtube feed of the news and take my now empty soup bowl to the sink to wash it. I look at the clock as I place my clean bowl and spoon on the drying rack.

6:33.

Ugh.

I have a biochem exam tomorrow that I am not ready for, but I am far too tired to even attempt to study. I've been tired a lot recently. Sluggish. Everything aches. I must be coming down with the flu. My vision blurs, and I stagger across my studio and collapse on my bed, out before my head hits the pillow.

"NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN…"

I feel around my bed for my phone. My little brother changed the ringtone to Rick Astley for random contacts. It took over a year for me to find all the contacts and change their ringtones back, but I left it for him and the friend who planned the prank with him. Despite still being on top of the covers and not quite on the pillow, it takes me embarrassingly long to find the phone. The ringer cuts off, and I give up.

"NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP…"

Damn. Where is that phone? I stop my frantic searching and listen. The floor! I reach down to grab it, overbalance, and fall off the bed. Got it! "Hello," I grumble into the speaker, realize the phone is upside down, and then flip it around in time to hear Steph start ranting.

"Where are you? Where have you been? I've been so worried!"

I rub a hand down my face, "What do you mean?" I glance at the clock. 9 am, still two hours until my test. "It's only nine."

"Its only nine? It's only nine! No one has been able to contact you for three days! Are you home?"

"What do you mean? I saw you in class yesterday." I stand up to reach for my computer on my dining table/ desk and wind up falling backward on the floor. The phone clatters out of my hands and I scramble for it. For some reason, I can't seem to turn over. Probably still sick.

"No, I saw you in class on Tuesday afternoon. It's Friday." I hear coming from the speaker as I finally manage to reach the phone.

I bring it back to my ear and ask "It's Friday? Steph, it's really Friday?"

"Meg, it is really Friday." I haven't heard her so concerned since I fell off a carousel and broke my arm.

"Three days? I've been asleep for three days!" I'm aware of how hysterical I sound. But I've been asleep for three days. THREE DAYS!

"I'm catching the bus now! I'll be at your place in twenty. Don't go anywhere, I'm bringing you food. Promise me you won't go anywhere!"

"I promise. I'll be here."

"Good. See you soon." She hangs up, she doesn't believe in the back-and-forth implied "no you's" that often come at the end of a phone call, so she always hangs up first. I toss my phone onto the bed. With my questionable balance right now, I don't want to struggle to hold on to it while I pull myself up.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

It takes four tries to roll over. Almost like something is in the way, holding me on my back and preventing me from rolling. Once I'm on my stomach it is only a little more difficult than usual to rise up onto my hands and knees. I feel heavy, heavier than usual. Did I atrophy while I was sleeping? Is three days enough to lose strength like that?

I often use my day bed as a chair at the table. Using it as a bench means I have space for my friends to come over for dinner, or space to study with a small group. In this instance, it means they are close enough that I can stabilize myself between the bed and the chair and use my arms to help pull me up and provide balance. I'm surprised to actually need to brace myself like this to get up.

Finally standing, I move to brace both my hands on the table. Slowly, I stumble my way toward the bathroom, using the wall for balance. I desperately need to pee, so I'm relieved when I make it to the bathroom door. Moving to brace myself on the vanity right inside the door, I look up and scream.

Is that my reflection? How is this my reflection?

I bring up my right hand to touch my face. My nails are long, black, and seem surprisingly strong. My skin has lightened to an almost papery white, while my eyes changed from a nice, normal blue to violet. My hair matches my eyes. Tiny iridescent scales have emerged under my eyes and along my cheekbones. I follow that line of scales all the way to the tops of my now-pointed ears.

I look closely at my hands and notice they also feature tiny scales, which run along my forearms like old Victorian dinner gloves. I lean forward towards the mirror to get a better look at my face and stumble. That's when I see them: large scaly wings stick out through my shredded shirt. That's why I couldn't roll over and why I've been off-balanced. I try to flex them. It takes time, but I finally manage to move them, tearing off the remnants of my shirt in the process.

Do I have a tail? I spin around as quickly as I can without falling flat on my ass and sigh. No tail. Not that its absence makes me less of a freak.

Peeing is an adventure. Sitting down without falling over is a skill I'm going to need to work on. Washing my hands is almost as difficult. I'm not used to long nails. I knock over the soap bottle and accidentally shred my towel in the process of drying them. They are sharper than I thought.

I put the remains of my hand towel in the garbage in defeat, then hear a knock on the door.

"Go away!" I shout.

"As if, bitch. Open up!" Steph replies, kicking the door again.

I struggle over to the door, "Steph if I open this door, you have to promise not to scream. I'm… I don't look too good."

Silence meets me on the other side of the door. "Do you look different?" she asks in a small voice, just loud enough for me to hear. "It's been happening to people for about a week. People go to sleep for a few days, and wake up different."

"Yeah… yeah that sounds about right." I'm on the verge of tears, and she can definitely hear it.

"I won't be afraid. Open up. I brought lots of food."

"This has really happened to others?"

"Yeah."

"Has it… has it happened to you?"

"Something like it. I didn't sleep for three days, but I am definitely… different."

I move the chain and unlock the door. Steph slides in while I hide behind the door. She closes it gently and turns toward me. I see the surprise in her eyes, but she doesn't scream or try to run. "You look beautiful."

"I look like a freak," I stumble away from the door. She catches me.

"Can't be easy to walk with all that extra weight on your back."

"No kidding," I laugh. She braces me as we walk and then deposits me into my single chair. Then, she starts laying out takeout containers from the restaurant she works at.

"I brought you one of everything. Leftovers and abandoned orders, but still good." I nod, pulling the one that smells the best towards me while taking the plastic fork she is holding out.

"What happened while I was out?"

"No one knows why or how, but lots of people are changing. Sprouting wings or tails, or suddenly developing powers. A scientist went on the news last night and he estimates the whole world could experience this before the month is over. Classes have been canceled. People are quarantining again. They don't know if this is a pandemic or what, but it doesn't seem to be hurting anyone."

"Is it permanent?"

"I don't know. No one does."