What makes us fall in love--and what makes us who we are?
Every day A wakes up in a different body: Male, female, gay, straight, different races and religions, A has been everything. There’s no telling who it will be, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. All A knows is that the person will be the same age as A and will be in roughly the same geographic location as the body A went to sleep in the night before.
A does not know why this is happening, but has made peace with it, even established guidelines by which to live: Never get too attached. Avoid being noticed. Do not interfere.
Until one day A meets Rhiannon, and everything changes. What do you do when you meet the person you want to be with but you’re a different person every day?