Mannequin

— Hello, — said Steven calmly, despite the turmoil brewing inside. If he could, he would have screamed, but it was as if all his emotions—or rather, his ability to express them—had been left in his body. Or more accurately, in the mannequin that had now become his body. The mannequin in the store window was now… him. And he was her?! It all seemed absurd.

He stood in the phone booth, staring at his reflection. A girl. Tall, with a perfect figure and short black hair, wearing a tight red dress, just like the mannequins in the boutiques on Broadway. The problem was, she was a mannequin. Just a few hours ago, this very mannequin had stood motionless as he, Steven, walked past.

He still couldn’t fully grasp what had happened. His body was now in that display, lifeless and soulless, while his consciousness had somehow ended up in this living mannequin. Maybe it had something to do with the strange gleam in the doll’s eyes when he passed the window? Steven couldn’t remember how it happened, but it was all horribly wrong.

— Who is this? — asked Jack, sounding confused, probably thinking it was some kind of prank call.

— It’s Steven, — his voice came out flat, almost mechanical, as if even his words now sounded detached, devoid of the usual emotions.

— Are you kidding me? — Jack’s tone sharpened with tension. — Is this some kind of weird joke?

Steven gripped the receiver tighter, feeling his new slender fingers barely able to grasp it. He glanced at his reflection again: a blank face, an empty gaze. Even if he wanted to show how scared and out of place he felt, his new body wouldn’t allow it. He was literally a doll, though now in a living body.

— I know this sounds insane, but it’s me, Jack, — Steven repeated in the same monotonous, lifeless tone, as if his voice had been stripped of the familiar human nuances of anxiety. It was unbearable. He wanted to explain everything at once, to shout so his friend would believe him, but the mannequin’s body didn’t respond to his inner turmoil. Even his emotions now seemed distant, unreachable.

— What kind of nonsense is this, Steven? — Jack was clearly losing his patience. — Girl, if this is some kind of prank, I swear… — Jack exhaled heavily, on the verge of hanging up.

— I know how it sounds, — Steven interrupted, feeling a cold shiver of terror crawl down his spine, though outwardly his body remained utterly still. — But if you see me, you’ll understand. Come to the department store on Broadway. Please, Jack. It’s urgent.

The seconds dragged on like an eternity before Jack finally replied:

— Fine. I’m coming. But if this isn’t a joke, you’d better be ready to explain what the hell is going on. — With that, the line went dead.

Steven slowly placed the receiver back on the hook and looked around, once again confronting his own reflection. Everything looked perfect. Too perfect. Smooth facial features, glossy black hair in a short cut—like a flawless model mannequin straight from the window of some upscale boutique. Not a single blemish on the skin, not the slightest imperfection. In this body, everything was honed to an absurd level, yet it all felt so… empty.

He stepped out of the phone booth, carefully treading on the sidewalk in those uncomfortable high heels. Cursing everything in the world, he tried to recall the last time he had even stood on legs like these. Every step was a struggle; his legs barely obeyed him, as if they still hadn’t adjusted to being… alive.

People passed by, casting fleeting glances at him—not surprised, not concerned, more like admiring. His—rather, her—figure clearly caught people’s attention. But no one could possibly imagine the horror lurking behind this beautiful façade.

Steven stopped at the department store window. There, on the display among the sparkling dresses, stood the mannequin—his former body. Now it was just a plastic figure, lifeless and expressionless. The body that had once been his now seemed completely alien, as if it were just a piece of decor, not his essence. There it was—with his face, his clothes—but devoid of consciousness. Inside, everything was boiling, but there were no familiar tears or screams. He stood there, staring at that mannequin as if he were looking at something boring, his eyelashes blinking as if programmed to do so once every few seconds.

Inside, Steven felt the tension rising, but it had no impact on his outward behavior. He cautiously touched the glass, examining the mannequin in the display. For a moment, he thought the plastic face met his gaze. But it wasn’t true. It was just a mannequin that looked like Steven, the way he had always remembered himself.