Through Another's Eyes

The alarm goes off shrilly, echoing electronically for thirty seconds before it turns itself off. You open your eyes and suddenly find yourself looking at a canopy of pale blue silk. You look down slowly, uncertain of what to find, only to realize that the oversized white t-shirt and the soft cotton shorts aren't yours. Your eyes scan the room: nothing in here is yours. Not the piles of books; not the slim computer or the stereo; not the tufted navy-blue carpet.

Not even the long, dark hanging in your eyes.

Where are you?