It isn't dark, but this one is certainly not lighthearted.

"Damn it!" Joyce said as she felt around her neck while looking down at the middle-aged, heavyset body her head was now stitched onto. "Damn it, what the fuck!"

As she raged and swore, she could see out of the corner of her eye and familiar sight. It was her body, dressed in the very clothes she had worn for her date that day, but above where her head should be was the head of the middle-aged man whose body she now had!

"Did you know about all of this? Fucking did you?"

His face was sympathetic, a bit somber and he shook his head as he walked over.

"No," he said softly. "This, is this even supposed to exist yet?"
"Obviously it does!" She yelled. "You brainless idiot!"

"Hey!" He shouted back. "I'm not the cause of this! Don't take this out on me, I came out here to see what I could do to help you!"

"Help me? How can you do that? Oh, I know, you can get your head off my body and give me my body back, that' what you can do! My date is ruined, my life is ruined you old bastard!"

"You think this is what I wanted?" He asked softly. "You're not the only one here whose scared or hurting, but you are the only one whose treating everyone else in the same boat as you like garbage."

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear? Oh, I'm so..." Her tone was mocking and cold.

"Forget it!" He said. "I tried. I can actually talk to the other eight or so people in there. When you want to act like a reasonable adult come in. Otherwise we don't need you in there. Seriously, stay out here and rage. They don't need this."

She laughed at him and he walked back in. As she watched him go, a smirk on her face, she saw him through the window talking with them.

He was right, she was, there were eight of them, including her boyfriend, him now having the body of a middle-aged woman in a skirt suit. Probably that guy's husband, she thought, seeing him easily talk to her, hating him, and hating her boyfriend now had a body like that. He must be so as pissed as she is.

She watched, waiting for him to react like she did, but when she didn't, when she saw his calm, when she saw all of them act with concern, she stopped.

It was as if something cleared from her mind. Her rage faded. God, she thought, I was just awful to that man! She started to sob, then stopped herself.

Her legs felt like lead, but she walked toward the restaurant and walked in, then broke down.

"I am so sorry about what I said to you! I really am. I'll go now."

She walked out the door and for a few minutes no one went to go to her. I deserve that, she thought. I really do. She went to get in her car to leave and she heard the door open. It was the man with her body.

"Come in. Talk."

"You mean that?" She asked.

"I first thought, when you came in and then left, that it was an act, something to make yourself seem like we should pity you. Once you started to leave, I knew it wasn't. I will warn you, though, no outburst like that again."

"None. And I really am sorry about what I said. Truly."

"Okay. Come on, let's go in."