(playing around with paragraphs)
She woke up and felt that something was different. The tips of her fingertips tingled. She thought that her fingers themselves might have grown longer in the night. She examined her palms and the lines that she could once have read there were all gone. She raised her hands in front of her face. Her hands were not her own. Her fingers were longer, slimmer, like the hands of a black and white movie star who solely needed to look beautiful and smoke cigarettes. She moved her hands, flexed her fingers.
He woke up in a world where the sky was a slightly different shade. It wasn’t anything dramatic, no neon pinks or emerald greens. It was still blue, just not quite the right blue. He stopped on his walk to work and stared at the sky. The blue seemed slightly more intense, the clouds were all shapes he would have wanted to see as a child: there was a dragon, there was a ninja, there was a sword. He kept staring and staring at the sky until the color bled into him.
She wakes up and her favorite song is no longer her favorite song. It sounds off-key, the lyrics no longer make sense. There is no moment she can link the song back to. She begins to make lists of everything that no longer is understandable. The list becomes filled with everything she has ever known.
He wakes up underwater and finds that he likes it much more than being on land. He likes the way shapes twist and grow with the waves. He likes the way that light filters down to him. He likes the fish and the stories they tell him. The fish tell many knock-knock jokes. He sometimes tells them ghost stories in return. All of his ghost stories begin the same. On land.
You wake up and take a moment to remember your own name. It tastes different on your tongue when you try saying it out loud. You repeat it and repeat it until it no longer makes any sense. So you change your name and stop paying attention when people call out to you in the streets.