I was in my "mother's" car, going to the home of Allison Allen.Only problem with that was I had woken up as Allison two days ago, andbefore that I was...a 40 year old man named Mark Collins. I had stopped tohelp a girl, who turned out to be Allison, when I had been hit by atruck, which I had learned was being driven by Allison's attacker.I didn't understand it, but that seemed to be the situation I was in.The Allen residence was a nice one, in a upper-middle classneighbourhood. Along the way, my. M. as usual, got dressed, keeping quiet so I didn't wake up my wife, and walked into the living room to get my wallet and keys and head out the door. There on the couch of course was Trina, sound asleep, TV on, with almost no volume. I often would look at her for a few minutes before leaving, just to absorb as much of her beauty as I could.This time, I got a great view. Her blanket was on the floor, and she was wearing a long nightshirt that had ridden its way up to her waist. It was clinging. More

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