This story has been inspired by one of my favorite stories by YoungTrevor on Blogger which can be found here!
Ryan hadn’t planned on going anywhere except Old Navy. At 43, he liked routine—practical clothes, loose boxers, and breathable cotton tees. But as he passed a new shop tucked between the candle kiosk and the pretzel stand, something about it caught his eye. The storefront was old-fashioned, with a hanging sign that read: Clothes Make the Man. Curious, and a little bored, he stepped inside.
It was quiet, like stepping into someone’s attic. Clothes lined every wall—some modern, some vintage, all carefully arranged. A distinguished man behind the counter, with silver hair and a vest straight out of a costume drama, greeted him warmly.
“Looking for something specific?”
“Underwear, actually,” Ryan chuckled. “Mine are all shot.”
“Ah, of course,” the man said, eyes gleaming. “Right this way.”
He led Ryan to the back of the store and pulled out a pair of crisp white briefs. They were clearly several sizes too small for Ryan’s middle-aged build.
“Those aren’t going to fit,” Ryan said, skeptical.
“They’ll fit you perfectly,” the owner said with a wink, handing them over.
Ryan stepped into the changing booth, not noticing the shimmer in the mirror’s surface. He tugged the size medium briefs on—surprisingly being able to get them on even though he usually wears a size extra large. As the waistband snapped into place, a jolt ran through him. His legs tightened, his gut receded, his chest expanded, and his face restructured. In seconds, he had become someone entirely new—youthful, handsome, toned.
He stared in shock at the reflection: the man from the image on the brief’s packaging. His jaw dropped. “What the hell—?”
He stepped out of the booth, still dazed.
The shopkeeper just smiled. “Welcome to your new self. The mirrors are enchanted. Anyone who tries on clothing becomes the last person who wore it. You’re him now—body, voice, everything. And outside these walls, the world will remember you as always having been this man.”
Ryan’s phone buzzed. He looked down. New name. New contacts. His past, rewritten.
“But…” he started.
“No need to worry,” the owner said, handing him a fresh bundle of clothes. Stylish jeans, a fitted tee, sleek sneakers. “These will fit your new body. Consider them a gift.”
Ryan hesitated, then took them. In minutes, he was fully dressed—feeling strange, powerful, and oddly excited.
“Now,” the owner said, ushering him toward the door, “go live your life. It’s already waiting for you.”
As Ryan stepped into the mall again, heads turned—people smiled, some waved. No one saw the middle-aged man who had walked in. That man no longer existed. Only himself and the shopkeeper remembered the man Ryan was.
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