When Evelyn opened her eyes, she nearly screamed. Her hands were smooth, her skin taut, her hair a shining river of chestnut. She stumbled to the mirror — and Lily’s face stared back at her. The pendant had worked.
At first, her steps wobbled, her balance unsteady. But then she ran — really ran — across the yard, her bare feet skimming the grass like wings. She laughed until she cried, her voice bright and youthful.
Her hands wandered, grabbing at her chest. Perky. Firm. She hadn’t been like this in decades. Curiosity overwhelmed her, and she stripped off her pajamas, gazing at her reflection. Smooth skin, long legs, flat stomach. Tears welled in her eyes. She had forgotten what it felt like to be young, to be alive in a body like this.
Dressing again, she flew downstairs, put on music, and spun across the room. She hadn’t been able to move like this in years. She even tried a handstand, collapsing into laughter at her own giddy freedom.
In all her excitement, she had almost forgotten about Lily — still trapped in her body. She opened the bedroom door and froze.
There, lying on the bed, was Evelyn’s old body. Wrinkled. Frail. And crying.
“Grandma,” Lily sobbed through Evelyn’s lips, “what’s happening? I’m… old… please help me!”
Evelyn stepped closer, looking down at the girl she had once been. She reached out and unclasped the other pendant. Without both, there could be no return.
Her granddaughter wept, complaining about the aches, the weakness, the pain. But Evelyn felt no remorse. She turned away, closing the door behind her, leaving Lily trembling and confused in the bed.
Evelyn pressed a hand to her new chest, her heart racing. She was young again. She was free. And she was going to enjoy every moment of her new life.
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