Deciding to sleep on the possibilities, Laura woke up the next day to find Amy passed out on the floor next to her bed. Laura let out a giggle. Guess someone went a little too hard and couldn't get lucky.
Standing up to start her day, Laura's breath caught in her throat. The App! Jumping to her nightstand, she grabbed her phone to open the gray program again, her changes from last night still typed into the top of the screen. Oh my god, it wasn't a dream... She made to type something else but stopped herself. What were the implications of something like this, did she have to follow rules or risk breaking the universe?
She inhaled deeply, followed by a long exhale. It's okay Laura. You can figure out a good way to use this power. Looking at her closet, she decided to start small.
I woke up early today to get ready for class and just finished with my morning routine.
Laura took a moment to re-read what she wrote, her anxiety forcing her to make sure there was no possibility that a change like this could tear space-time in half. Slowly, she pressed her finger down on the enter button, her phone buzzing in confirmation.
A rattling sound filled her room and with a blink of her eyes, Laura found herself standing, fully clothed and ready for the day. Speechless, she stared down at the clothes she had supposedly picked out for the day: a plain dark tank top with a loose maroon flannel unbuttoned over the top with a pair of tight gray jeans.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she felt her brain fill in the gaps of her memory. She had set an alarm last night in anticipation of messing around with the app and had woken up about forty-five minutes ago to start her day. Laura could FEEL that this memory was real, even though the rational part of her brain knew that she had only woken up minutes before.
Smiling as she looked up from her phone, the possibilities filled her head of what she really could do, what power she really had, with the device in the palm of her hand.
She checked her calendar to see her first class for the day.
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