Brandon's 35-year old father walked over to the phone, hoping that it was his wife Mary. She had gone shopping earlier with Brandon, to get a new costume for him, but she never came back. She also never called to say where she was or where she was going. Mary always informed him of such things, which made him extra worried about her this time.
Alex picked up the phone and said "Hello?"
"Harold, this is Brivian," a voice belonging to an older woman said on the phone. Alex didn't recognize the voice, although there did seem to be something familiar about it.
Harold? he thought. Brivian? Who were they? It must have been a wrong number.
"I'm calling ahead to tell you about a party we will be attending this evening. We're on our way home right now, so get ready to leave. It's a black tie event, so make sure you're properly dressed. See you soon, dear." Then the line was disconnected.
A strange feeling suddenly came over Alexander (all of a sudden, using his whole first name seemed appropriate). He put down the phone and headed to the master bedroom. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like he needed to take a shower.
As he showered, the rooms of his house began to slowly change, some getting smaller, most getting much much larger, and the furnishings within them became more expensive and luxurious. But he was so focused on cleaning up in the shower that he didn't notice anything until he was done.
