As you make your way into the shoe shop, it isn't too challenging to find your dad. You make your way to him and find that you've pretty much caught your breath, though you feel a small sweat stain in the center of your back. Grabbing at your shirt to pull it away from your sweaty body, you see your dad eying a pair of shoes.
"They're chuck taylors!" he says excitedly, his eyes on a pair of black high tops. You chuckle, "I know what they are, son." your mouth dries out at your remark, the unintentional addition of the word son shaking you. Your dad doesn't seem to notice, as he looks through the shelf below to find a pair in his size. Well, your size, really; he wastes no time searching for a 13 (his old shoe size), but instead searches for a pair of 9s. "They don't have my size..." he regrets, his eyes doubling over all the boxes. "I used to wear these back in the day. But they don't have my size..." he reiterates, looking to you for help. "Just try a size up." you reply, shrugging. He nods and grabs a 10, sliding them off the shelf.
As he opens the box, his eyes light up and he pulls out the shoes, which conveniently are already laced. Your dad slips them on, immediately showing signs that they are too big. "They're just too big." he shrugs, leaning back over to pull them off before freezing in his tracks. You stand over him, disinterested, until he starts changing. Within moments, John's too small feet grow to fit the shoes perfectly, his toes moving the rubber tip of the shoe up and down. Lacing them quickly, your dad stands up and takes a few steps, unaware of his changes. At 6'2", you were about 8 inches taller than he was when the two of you walked in. Now, it looks to be more like 4 inches taller. John shot up to 5'10" in no time at all, his extremities lengthening and his body beefing up a bit. His previously slim fitting jeans are now plain skinny, hugging his beefier thighs and hanging an inch or two above his ankle, exposing his larger feet. The hipster shirt that fit loosely moments before now hugged his body a bit, the fit much more appealing as it formed around his swollen biceps and enlarged pectorals. Your mouth is agape, but still John makes no remark. His eyes align with yours and he tilts his head. "What?" his voice is deeper now than it was a few moments before, having passed puberty somewhere in his transformation. John must have aged a year or two, reaching the age where his feet were a size 10.
Somehow, you know he is 17, a junior in high school. "Nothing." you muster, watching him eye up his feet.
As he walks around, John grins, nodding in approval. "I like 'em, they're old school. Can I get them Dad?" he looks at you pleadingly, and without a moments hesitation, you nod. "Yeah, sure. They look good."
Wait, did you just agree to buy your dad a pair of shoes? And did he just call you dad?
As you approach the cash register, the cashier looks at the two of you, making small talk about finding everything okay and whatnot. "You know, I betyour dad wore these when he was your age. You still want them." You nod along knowingly; you had a pair exactly like them at 17. John just chuckles at this and nods his head in agreement. "I'm sure I have more style than he ever had." John quips, jabbing you in the belly playfully. Before much longer, the transaction was over, and John was wearing his new Converse out the door, you following behind him.
The two of you stop at the bench you rested at just 10 minutes prior, as John rolls his tight and short jeans a bit to show his shoes and to make his jeans look intentionally short. You watch, wondering where you had been heading before stopping. "So, we're off to pac sun next, right?" he edges away from you in the direction of the store.
"Oh, yeah." your reply is confused and forgetful as you scratch your stomach absentmindedly.