1:30 {muke}

1:01

Michael Clifford

Michael wasn't the most fortunate teenager out there. In fact, he was probably the most unfortunate someone could get. He was a runaway. Sick of the foster care system, he ran. He took what little money and belongings he had and ran. He hadn't thought it through. No. But he was at least free to do what he wanted. The only downside was the fact that he was homeless.

He had made a home from an old apartment complex in the sketchy part of town. He wasn't the only one living there. A man who never spoke lived in the higher part of the building. A woman and her five hear old lived across from Michael. Whenever he got food he'd always give some to her. The child needed more than he did.

That particular day wasn't going too well for him. He had almost gotten caught when taking a few loafs of bread from the local grocery store. He didn't get caught of course, but he had come close to heading to the police station.

"Miss Anderson?" Michael knocked lightly on the door. It wasn't really necessary, considering that the door was hanging off the hinges, but Michael had retained his manners for the most part. He refused to become some juvenile delinquent. He only stole when he needed to.

"Come in, Michael," Ms Anderson smiled when Michael walked in with his worn-out backpack full of food. "Did you get anything today?"

"Yeah," Michael slung the backpack off his shoulder and pulled out two apples and a loaf of bread. Will, the five year old, was sleeping on the makeshift bed of blankets and paper bags. Michael spoke softly in order to let him sleep.

"Michael, you don't understand how much we appreciate you doing this," Ms Anderson smiled a grim smile, her eyes darkening. The homeless community was always like that. They all remembered when they used to have homes. That was what made them feel that way; feel like something was missing.

Michael never wanted to feel bad for himself. He had chosen to leave his home. But then again he never had a home. His mother hadn't wanted him for some reason. Maybe she couldn't afford him. Or maybe she just didn't want a kid. Nonetheless, Michael ended up in foster care. And he couldn't find a family that actually liked him. He would end up doing something like cussing in front of them or staying out late. He wasn't the type to stay somewhere.

"It's the least I can do," Michael smiled, hugging Ms Anderson's heaving body. She cried quite a lot. But Michael never complained. She was the closest to a friend he had. "I'll be in my place if you need me for anything."

Michael's 'apartment' wasn't much. It was small, just like the other ones in the complex, but it wasn't as dilapidated as some of the other rooms. Whoever had lived there before had left a bed and a rotting wooden dresser, which helped Michael store what little belongings he had.

Michael set his bag down and pulled out the loaf of bread he had gotten for himself, taking a piece off and eating it slowly. He had learned from experience that the faster you eat, the more your body wants.

As he chewed he pulled out his journal. It wasn't exactly a diary. More of a song book. Lyrics were in every page. Stanzas of his experiences and his emotional turmoil. He hoped that one day he'd be able to turn those songs into money. He'd usually play a little on his guitar. But that day just felt different. He felt tired. Tired of being homeless. Tired of being someone who lives in a dilapidated building.

The sun had gone down hours ago. Michael liked looking at the stars. In that area of town not many people were living there. There were no lights to dim the brightness of the stars.

"I wish I was someone else," Michael mumbled quietly, just as a shooting star appeared and disappeared into the sky.

He silently laughed to himself.

Wouldn't it be funny if that actually came true?

Little did he know, it would.

AYYE SO WATTPAD HAS A SHORTAGE OF BODY SWAP STORIES SO

IM MAKING ONE AND ITS MUKE YAY

SO YEAh I'll be uploading the next chapter later XD but for now enJOY