Closer

Mack had attended the auto show each and every year since he was a kid. He always liked seeing the latest models of cars, but he always hated the fact that he couldn’t get closer. Twenty years ago, you could walk right up, but these days? Not so much. The crowds had gotten much worse. Plus, in recent years, the cars were always behind a rope with only a representative from the company or a model close enough to actually touch the car. As he wished he could get closer, there was a sudden flash of light and he felt woozy. He reached his hand out to grab onto something to catch his balance and felt the smooth metal of a fancy new car. He pulled his hand back quickly, unsure of how he had gotten behind a rope, but sure he was going to get in trouble for it. Then he noticed the hand he pulled back. It wasn’t his own. Instead, the nails were long and manicured. The fingers were thin, delicate, and feminine. This hand wasn’t his own, and nether was the body it was attached to.