Your reflection is surprisingly familiar. Despite the drastic nature of your change, you could still recognize yourself if you looked hard enough. No one would "mistake" you for a guy, but you could pass as your own cousin. Besides the gender of your body, the one obvious difference was hair color, as you were now a full redhead.

After calming down a little, you wondered what to do. You were getting cold just standing there in the damp towel, but you really didn't feel like running outside and bumping into anyone. You caught a glimpse of your reflection as your eyes wandered the room. It was still hard to believe that you had really changed, but you weren't surprised by it anymore. It wasn't that you had accepted the change, it was just that it suddenly didn't weird you out any longer. You just happened to be a girl, something not many (or perhaps any) other males could say. Curiosity overtook you, and you began to run your hand through you hair. It felt wonderful, like an expensive silk. It was so light that it was almost weightless. Your eyes drifted down your reflection and stopped on your chest. A feeling of nervousness filled you as you hand grabbed the towel.

"They're mine right?"

After asking no one in particular, you decided to just get it over with, and peeled the towel away from your body. The sight was a bit overwhelming. With your free hand, you explored some of your new features before you heard the sound of a door closing from outside.

"No, I have other things to do right now!"

Your tiny voice no longer bothers you either. You drop the towel on the floor and pick up the clothes that you had brought in to the shower room. You quickly discovered how much smaller you were as you got dressed, everything was loose and went on rather easily. Despite this, you shirt was extremely uncomfortable. Your chest had no restraint or support, and would move around every time you did. What you felt when you slid around under your shirt was beyond strange. Your pants also proved to be a challenge as they were too short. After forcing your legs through, you hold up the belt in front of you.

"It's a good thing I decided to wear this."

You slid the belt through the loops and buckle it. You go all the way to the last hole, but its still loose on you. To your left was a draw, you dive in with your hands and search it. There is a pair of scissors inside. You open the scissors and punch a new hole through the belt. After a quick adjustment, you feel like you can walk around without having your clothes fall off. With the scissors in hand, you think of one more use for them. You walk up to the mirror and see the girl that you have become, now very much resembling a tomboy. With one hand, you bunch up your flowing orange hair and butcher it with the scissors. You have quite a different look with short hair, and unwittingly find yourself thinking of your reflection as cute.

A sound comes through the door to the shower room, and you pick up your pace. The shredded hair is quickly hidden in the bottom of the waste bin in the corner, and you bend down onto the ground to look under the door. You see no one, and decide to make a break for your room. Once in, you shut the door, and overturn everything trying to get what you need. You take your keys, your wallet, a cap, your phone and an old pair of shoes that actually fit. In your panic, you talk to yourself.

"I can't stay here. I don't know what's going on, but I don't want things getting any more complicated."

You hide what remains of your hair with the cap, put on the shoes, and place everything else in your pockets. You jump over to the door, but stop before opening it. Where will you go? After some impulsive thought, the library jumps into your head. You could perhaps look for books on strange happenings like the one you were currently experiencing. With your decision made, you slowly push the door open and peek outside. There is no one. You run over to the stairs and fly down. Footsteps alert you to the presence of someone on the first floor. Each step you take is carefully modulated to make not a single sound. The slow march toward the front door is almost painful, but successful in the end. Open, shut, lock. By the time anyone would have checked, you are down the block.