Alternative

| Chapter One

Bright lights from my client's studio apartment reflect off of my laptop's screen. Music plays from the radio sitting on her windowsill. Paired with the gentle breeze pushing through the curtains, I feel as if this memory session will be an easy process.

At least, that's what I tell myself every time.

"Ms. Guzman, do I need to sign anywhere else?"

I turn and look down at the woman with the pen in her hands. She seems nervous, yet smiles at me. I try to give her the same kindness as I take the contract terms back into my hands. One quick glance down at the paper proves she didn't miss a single line. Every Alt-Life box was checked and confirmed.

I force a smile and shake my head in response.

"Oh, okay." The woman looks down at her hands, chipping away at her nail polish on her ring finger. Tiny flecks of red land on her pants. "I just want to make sure I'm doing everything right, you know?"

"Sure," I say as I pocket the document back in its place within my bag. "I understand."

When I look up again, her mouth lifts into a smile. One so bright, everlasting; paired with curious eyes, red curls, and cheeks so flushed, I bite the insides of my cheek. Her gaze warms me, fills me. In a way, I want to cry.

Why did she look so much like my Emery? Why did I have to take this call?

"So, do I put this on?" The woman leans over the armrest of her couch to grab a circular device off of her coffee table. The tiny, silver balls flatten against her fingertips as she touches them. One by one, she presses them against her temple. Her brown eyes observe me.

Joe did this on purpose. A girl with brown eyes. Pink, puffy lips. Is this a game to him? Is he really helping me?

"Am I doing this right?" she asks, gaze drifting away from mine. She tilts her head up toward the ceiling, eyes squinting as she tries to power on the recording spheres. With trembling hands, she touches them, squeezes them, to no avail. Nothing happens.

I can't help but laugh and reach over to help her. On the spheres themselves, there was just a little button, a small spot, to get the devices to work just right. Yet, the second I move and our fingers touch, my smile fades.

"Em, look at me! Babe, open your eyes!"

The woman peers back at me just over the rim of her glasses. The light in her eyes doesn't fade; it brightens instead. A soft chuckle slips past her lips.

My fingers twitch as I try to stay composed.

"Someone, help me! Anyone! Please, I need a medic! Emery needs help!"

"Are you okay?" she asks, lifting her brow. "Looks like you're somewhere else."

I blink. The young woman wouldn't know of my awful habits; how I can drift away for hours, remembering the day that changed my life. It was a nightmare I relived, and each Alt-Life shift I signed up for, only returned with my demons.

Yet, despite the occasional inability to focus, no one ever got hurt on my call. At least, not since that day.

Shaking my head, I pull myself out of my thoughts and press my finger against the device. The sphere turns blue, syncing with its metal counterpart on the other side of her delicate face. "Sorry, Miss Rogers, I'm nowhere I shouldn't be." My next smile isn't as forced as the first. "Now, if you're ready, I can explain how the entire process works."

She nods and smiles, dropping her hands. Her fingers gently brush against mine as they fall. Sparks prickle up my arm.

"Go for it," she says.