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Wishfulfilment International Inc. (Part 6)

It worked. Oh yes, and how it did! The cry of joy comes out as a babble and you feel a thread of saliva run down your chin. Instinctively you lift a hand to wipe it away but it doesn't obey you. Shocked you raise your head and in the mirror opposite you see her for the first time closely - the woman you've so desperately wanted to become.

You are not smiling. It's only the impression from the paralysis that's distorting your mouth, underlined by the scar creeping up from one corner of it into your hair. And you're not sitting at a piano but in a wheelchair. There is one of those new, ultra small laptop Computers attached to the chair's left arm. You only just manage to move the fingers of that hand. It's a hard job to try and type. Your reflex is to jump to your feet but the jerk just
lands you face down in a helpless heap on the carpet.
Somebody enters the room and comes running towards you. Oh yes, it is the handsome manager, and he is finally holding you in his arms. Your newly acquired husband carries you lovingly over to the bedroom. In passing the large windows you catch a glimpse of your old flat across the river. All the lights are on and there is a woman dancing through all the rooms in the body that was once yours, and she is laughing a genuine big laugh, while you choke on your tears of frustration.

You didn't know you were that famous third party concerned, did you? Who would have guessed that glamorous woman living surrounded by riches would want to change with  a supermarket cashier?          

"Don't cry darling," your husband says. "We'll find another specialist in brain trauma. I won't stop fighting until I have you out of that wheelchair."

You don't believe him. Although you haven't read the complete terms and conditions you know that there's no exchange or refund.