“I got it while I was in town,” Jim explained, “They’re practical!”
“They’re practually hideous!” Ami interjected, “If my Instagram followers saw me looking like that...And, speaking of which, where did you get them?”
“You know I went to town. I stopped at the WalMart.”
Ami held back a dry heave, “Seriously?”
“It’s where I bought the parts for your car, too. No one was talking about nothing strange or unusual either, so whatever this body swapping stuff that affected us...we seem to be the only ones. I should still be able to fix your car though.”
“Thanks. Could you try not to get my hands too dirty?”
“Try not to...get your hands dirty?” Jim asked in confusion, “I’m gonna be working on your car. My hands ae gonna get dirty!”
“MY hands,” Ami reminded him, “You may be in control of my body right now, but those are still MY hands.”
“Naw, I get it. I’m just telling you there’s not much I can do about it. And if we aren’t able to swap back, all this talk about dirty hands and not liking each other’s clothes are gonna seem like small taters.”
Ami hated to admit it, but she knew Jim was right.
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