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Today wasn’t much different from yesterday. Or the day before. Or any other day in this cursed place.
Hands that were once used to a keyboard and a cup of coffee were now kneading dough. I looked at my thin fingers, slightly reddened from the flour and effort, with disgust. Cold flour, slightly warm water, a pinch of salt—that’s all that mattered now. The main thing was to mix it in the right proportions, so Marta wouldn’t scold me again for having "hands growing from the wrong place."
I sighed, wanting to wipe my hands on my apron, but I missed and smeared them right across my chest. The soft flesh, not too noticeable but very tangible, swayed slightly, as if reminding me of its presence. I clenched my teeth. How long had I been here? A year? A year and a half? Long enough to stop flinching at my own reflection in the water, but not long enough to accept it.
Damn Hadron Collider. Damn scientists who thought they could just play around with the laws of physics. Everything I had, everything I was—gone in a single fucking instant. One flash. One moment—and I was no longer me.
When it happened, I...