A bit dark.

"I'm telling you, I'm not her! My name is..."

"Ma'am, your ID and all you information say otherwise, along with your husband. I understand that a head injury can cause issues..."

"There's no fucking issues!" A feminine voice screamed. "Can't you understand! I'm Miles Samuels, I'm twenty-three, not, what is she, forty?"

"You are thirty-eight, with a husband who is coming to get you. And please, try and relax a little. I'm not ordering, I'm asking. Please."

At, hands were thrown up in the air in frustration and then those same hands were rubbing her face and hair.

"God, I can feel the staples, where they did it."

"That was an incision to stop a brain bleed. I assure you, your brain is your. Look, I see this all the time, the confusion, the confidence that something very strange is going on and it's all wrong. So, when I tell you, as a nurse that's done this for fifteen years that you are fine, that this will pass, can you at least consider that possibility? That you might be mistaken in all of this?"

"You don't believe me."

"Well, let me ask you, which is more likely, a head injury causing confusion and temporary issues or a brain transplant? Have you ever actually heard of them doing one on a person? Ever?"

At that, the tone softened and her shoulders relaxed.

"No." A soft voice admitted.

"See, there you go. So, why don't you wait here for him and I'll check in on you in a few minutes. If you need something I'll just be down the hallway, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Good."

The nurse closed the door and walked away, an evil smile on her face as she walked away. God, she was too good at this, convincing them that they weren't experiencing what they were experiencing. That they really were the person whose face they saw and not the person whose brain was actually in that skull.

As she walked down the hall, he was what, number thirty-three? No, thirty-six. Thirty-six brain transplants. Mrs. O'Neal would be thirty-seven and she heard that another nurse that was in on this had already tried and failed to calm her down, unable to convince her she was really Miles.

She shrugged. Not everyone has the experience or tact needed for something like that, but she did, and as she opened the door and walked into the room, a smile of fake warmth on her face, she knew by the time she walked out again "Miles" would be just as compliant as "Mrs. O'Neal"!