"Do I look like I'm twelve years old?"
In a few months, I'll be twenty. Even if this man had poor vision, he wouldn't mistake a nearly twenty-year-old youth for a twelve-year-old child. He must be joking.
Although that was my first thought, I didn't truly believe he was making a joke. There was no need for him to tell such an easily verifiable lie. Moreover, when I spoke, I realized something was off about my voice.
I tried to look down at my body, but my movement was restricted by restraints. Even this slight motion made me feel that something was wrong with this body. It felt strange, weak, and the sensation of muscle movement was disjointed. It was like reaching for an unopened bottle of Coke on the table without looking and finding it's been stealthily half-drunk, knowing something was amiss the moment you felt its weight.
Could my body really have taken on the appearance of a twelve-year-old?
