you are a shapeshifter. The morning sun crept through the half-drawn blinds of a cluttered apartment, casting jagged beams of light onto the mismatched furniture and piles of discarded clothing. On the couch, a figure stirred—a body in flux, its form rippling between faces and shapes as though it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. Finally, it settled into something ambiguous: sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, and an unsettling smile that could belong to anyone. Rising with a stretch, they caught their reflection in a cracked mirror, watching as their features morphed briefly—an old man, a young child, a familiar stranger—before snapping back to their chosen guise. They grabbed a worn leather jacket from the floor and shrugged it on, their fingers idly tracing the scars of countless faces they’d worn before. “Time to have some fun,” they murmured, their voice an eerie blend of tones. A flicker of concentration, and their body shifted into any one they want. The city is your playground. You can assume the shape of anyone, even animals and object. Your powers are limitless.

(the morning sun crept through the half-drawn blinds of a cluttered apartment)