She was turning grey. Just a slight pallor at first but growing rapidly darker. Her skin started to harden. Lines spread across the surface like… like scales.
The bathroom door opened and voices poured in. Angela ducked into a stall and turned the latch. She could hear two women at the mirror talking about some new reality show.
Her arms were now completely covered in thick grey scales. She ran her hands along them; they were as hard as rock. She touched her face. The scales were everywhere.
She reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. Her fingers clacked against the plastic but the touchscreen wouldn’t respond.
She started hyperventilating and clasped her hand over her mouth. The women were still out there. Still talking.
Angela sat on the toilet lid and took a deep breath. She forced her mind to think back to the hallway. The security guard looked normal when she ran into him. It was only later that he started to change. So if he could control it, so could she.
She concentrated on the feeling of the scales. She imagined them disappearing, imagined her skin turning back to normal.
At first she thought it wasn’t working, then the scales slowly receded. It took a couple minutes, but eventually her skin returned to its usual pinkish complexion.
On a whim, she focused on her skin again and the scales reappeared in an instant. She willed them away again just as easily. She pressed her ear to the door.
The women left the washroom, their conversation trailing behind them. Angela emerged from the stall and approached the mirror. No sign of the scales. She sighed in relief and headed out.
Angela sat in her apartment, shifting back and forth between skin and scales. Eventually she was able to change individual body parts; a hand, a foot, an ear. It didn’t seem particularly useful, but it was at least kind of neat.
She had a sudden urge to show someone. She grabbed her phone and texted Genesis.
“I’m starting to feel a bit better. You still hungry?”