Jake Stone awoke with a start; something was not right. The air was warm, far warmer than he would expect on a January night. The room was black, with only the dim glow from an outside light coming in the window. He could see the curtains swaying in the slight breeze, the air felt heavy like the humid air of a summer night. His mind was reeling; where was he? The last thing he remembered was that he had been in bed at his apartment, the crappy, dingy apartment that was all he could afford after his wife had tossed him out. He remembered waking up with a crushing pain in his chest, and then he remembered the blackness coming up in his mind. Now there was blackness again, no, not quite blackness, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. He could see the red numbers of a clock across the room showing 3:17. Then he realized that he was not wearing his glasses; how the hell was he seeing across the room?

He threw the covers off and went to sit up. Again, something was not right. The pain that usually accompanied moving was not there. He felt great, his back did not hurt, his throat did not hurt, he moved smoothly, lightly and easily. His hand went to his body and he realized he was different, much thinner, and much firmer. He stumbled out of the bed and over toward the glowing face of the clock. He saw a light next to the clock and he flicked it on, the glow of the lamp causing him to squint in pain at the brightness.

Jake looked down and sudden felt dizzy. His body was not his body. His 57-year-old, overweight, and aging body was not there. He was thin and muscular with a flat stomach. He must be 100 pounds lighter. He looked around the room his head spinning, and he could feel that he knew it. He had been here before, but where was here?

Suddenly it came to him; this was his senior year dorm room from Oregon State. It was the apartment he shared with Dave and Ken. This room was his bedroom, but why was he here? He stumbled over to where he remembered the bathroom to be and he looked into the mirror. The sense of Déjà Vu almost overwhelmed him. The face in the mirror was him, but it was not him. It had not been him for a very long time, yet it was him. He looked to be 21 years old again, not the flabby 57-year-old mug that he was used to seeing.

Jake was jolted out of his confusion by the sound of knocking. He went to the bedroom door and opened it. There was no sound from the other parts of the apartment. If Dave and Ken were home asleep it did not show. He remembered that Ken slept most nights at his girlfriends that year, and that Dave came home when it got light out most nights.

The knocking at the front door grew more insistent and he moved across the small living room that joined the three bedrooms to answer the door.