New routine

Mr. Harris used to live by strict routines. Coffee at 6:00, school by 7:30, silence at home after 5. He taught literature, loved old books, and barely remembered what it was like to be twenty. That is… until the swap.

One moment, he was grading essays. The next, he was staring at a mirror in someone else’s apartment — someone very young, very female, and definitely one of his students.

He panicked at first. Who wouldn’t? But now, only a few days later, things were… different. Calmer. Stranger. Freer.

Tonight, he found himself lounging on her chair, in her cozy room, wearing her oversized glasses and her favorite socks pulled up over smooth legs. A half-read textbook lay open on the desk, and a mug of chamomile tea steamed gently beside it.

He knew he should be freaking out, trying to fix this. But instead… he was reading poetry aloud in a soft, curious voice. Taking mirror selfies when no one was looking. Letting his hair fall messy and loose. He even started painting his nails. Nothing wild—just a soft nude pink.

Mr. Harris, or whoever he was now, was starting to realize that life didn’t have to be so locked away. That maybe the world didn’t need to revolve around lesson plans and repressed thoughts.

He curled up deeper in the chair, the warm desk lamp casting golden light on his skin. “Just for tonight,” he whispered, running a fingertip down one thigh. “I’ll let myself enjoy this. Just a little longer.”

The real world could wait. For now, he was learning what it meant to be seen… and maybe, just maybe, what it meant to feel alive again.