Jealous

Everyone in town thought Mr. Miller was simply a racist old man. The truth was much more complex. He had lived in the small suburban town long before it became a hip location for rich commuters to settle down. He didn’t grumble about the recent wave of wealthy Asian immigrants because he was racist; it was because he was jealous. He was jealous of their youth and jealous of their money. But he had a plan, and he was finally ready to enact it.

He walked to the train station one morning during the morning commute with a crumbled, tattered piece of paper in his hand. He eyed an Asian businessman on the platform and read the words on the paper. Unexpectedly, Mr. Miller found himself quite far from the station. The body swap spell he read couldn’t apparently be aimed so easily. Instead of swapping with the businessman, he found himself in the body of a woman heading to the gym for a game of tennis.

It wasn’t what he had intended at all, but he had no reason to complain. This woman was young, and if she was headed to the gym instead of a job, she probably had plenty of money. Or at least her husband did.