It was as if a switch had been thrown. I had just finished work on my little 10-HP Evinrude in preparation for a weekend of fishing on the lake. I was wiping grease off my adjustable wrench and then I was washing celery in a sink. There was no transition, just a sudden change in scenery. The wrench was celery, my garage had become a kitchen, and the view out the window was urban, not rural.

I paused and listened. The only sounds were music playing softly in another room, the water running in the sink, and random twinkling notes from a small wind chime.

I put the celery on the counter next to bulbous bell peppers and other produce I was presumably destined to wash next. I turned off the water and reached for a towel. At that moment, I noticed two things: those were not my hands; and why is that newspaper date two weeks later than today?

I dried my hands and walked from the kitchen through a dining room and into a living room. I passed a mirror on the wall. My peripheral vision caught something that made me stop and back up. I looked into the mirror and gazed at a face that was not mine. The hair was darker, the face more angular and the beard...the beard? The face in the mirror was male! I looked down at my flat, breastless chest and realized that if I was in a male body, that meant I also had a...