The morning sunlight leaked through the half-open blinds, striping across the messy room that still didn’t feel like mine. Clothes were everywhere. A skateboard leaned against the wall, and the faint smell of cologne, motor oil, and boy lingered in the air. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at hands that weren’t mine rougher, veined, a faint scar on one knuckle.

It had been two days since the swap, and I still couldn’t get used to the weight of this body—the height, the ...