Jon was glad his wardrobe was still the same. T-shirt and jeans and a pair of sneakers with a new hole about to be broken through.
When he came downstairs he nearly fell backwards in surprise.
"Jon, you're going to be late," his mom said, calling from the kitchen and giving him THAT look. Perhaps the only thing that was the same about her. Otherwise, Jon wouldn't really have recognised the muscular woman before him.
She was... fit. Like a professional weightlifter, defined and lean. She was dressed in a nicely-fitting casual office wear attire which, if Jon had seen her on the street randomly, he probably would've appreciated.
"I... um..." Jon stammered.
"Okay. Okay. Grab your food. Want me to drive you or want to take the bus?"
"Or we could cycle together, Jon. Come on, I'll race you," Jon's dad suddenly called. He came into the kitchen, wearing bright and colourful spandex. A full cyclist gear, helmet and dark sunglasses too. And he was lean, and muscular too.
