The sun was dipping low over the suburban rooftops when Jason stormed into his son's bedroom, his face twisted in a mix of shock and fury. Liam, his 22-year-old son, stood frozen in front of the full-length mirror, the soft fabric of his mother's favorite sundress clinging awkwardly to his lean frame. The dress, a relic from happier times before his wife's passing two years ago, was a painful reminder of loss. Jason's voice boomed like thunder. "What the hell is this? Get out! I won't have this in my house!" Liam's eyes widened in terror, but before he could stammer an explanation, Jason had grabbed him by the arm and marched him to the door, shoving him out into the evening chill with nothing but the dress on his back.

Liam wandered the streets, tears streaming down his face, until he found refuge at his grandmother's modest bungalow a few miles away. Margaret, at 71, had always been the family's soft-hearted matriarch-a widow herself, with a penchant for baking pies and watching old soap operas. She welcomed him with open arms, no questions asked, though her sharp eyes noted the unusual attire.

The next morning, Jason's phone rang. It was Margaret, her voice unusually crisp. "Jason, come over right away. We need to talk." He grumbled but obliged, assuming she wanted to lecture him about family bonds. When he arrived, the scene in her living room stopped him cold. His mother sat primly in her favorite armchair, but she was dressed like someone half her age-or perhaps no age at all. A sleek black strapless tube dress hugged her frail figure, ending daringly at mid-thigh. Sheer black stockings shimmered on her legs, and glossy high stilettos dangled from her feet. Behind her stood Liam, looking oddly domestic in a soft, well-worn pale yellow floral housedress with a V-neckline and practical pockets, his feet tucked into cozy fuzzy slippers.

Jason's jaw dropped. "Mom? What on earth are you wearing? And why is he still in that getup?" He pointed accusingly at Liam. "Why are you encouraging this nonsense?"

The woman in the chair-Margaret's body-tilted her head, her voice carrying a youthful lilt that didn't match the wrinkled face. "Dad, it's me. I'm Liam. Grandma's in my body." The figure behind her, Liam's young body, nodded solemnly.

Jason blinked, confusion turning to anger. "What kind of joke is this?"

Liam-in Margaret's body-continued, her arthritic hands gesturing emphatically. "Grandma and I made an agreement last night. We... swapped. I'll be in her body, and I can stay here for as long as I want. This is what I've always wanted-to be a woman."