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In the year 2021, there was a boy named Zachary Mason who was 6 years old. Zachary stood at 3’6”, weighing 45 pounds, which was considered average for a boy his age. He was born on the radiant morning of August 7, 2015, marking him a Leo and a native Coloradan. His hair was the color of shiny copper pennies falling into a wishing well, cropped short and often playfully spiking with the free spirit of youthfulness. His eyes, an enticing summer sky blue. Zachary’s mother, a youthful woman named Jennifer Mason, was a petite 26 years old, standing at 5’4” and delicately slim at 120 pounds. She was born on the snowy afternoon of December 14, 1995, under the Sagittarius sign. Croning Falls, Texas was her birthplace. Her hair, a cascade of raven feathers that swished around to her shoulders. Her eyes, a solemn and enchanting hazel like the falling autumn leaves. The boy’s father, Richard Walker, was a towering man, 28 years old standing at a giant 6'2" and roughly 190 pounds. Born on November 23, 1993 in Scruff, Ohio, under the Sagittarius sign, his hair was a tidy walnut brown, cropped short and suave, complementing his deep-set, soulful cocoa-brown eyes. However, he was no longer involved in Zachary’s life. Zachary’s aunt, Charlotte Mason was a merry figure, 24 years old, standing at 5’6” and weighing 130 pounds. Born on a balmy afternoon on June 22, 1997, she was a Cancer hailing from the city of whimsical dreams, Denver, Colorado. Her hair, a lovely auburn color styled in soft waves cascading her shoulders, matched her vibrating green eyes. Then there was his Uncle, Charles Mason, 27 years old, bearing an athletic frame at 5’11” and 180 pounds. Born amidst the verdant bloom of spring on April 16, 1994, in Denver, Colorado, Charles had short yet well-coiffed jet-black hair, framing his warm hazelnut eyes. He was mostly caught up in his work, however, rarely making an appearance at family gatherings. Finally, his grandmother, the buoyant Patricia Mason, stood at 5’5” at age 70, weighing about 150 pounds. She was born one crisp morning on March 8, 1951. Her hair was a glossy silver styled in a short bob, making her sea-green eyes sparkle even more brightly. One calm morning in bustling Chicago, Zachary ventured into a salon named “Luminous Accents” – a first for him, being without any family accompanying him. A Korean woman working at the salon greeted him. Her name was Hana Park, 72 years old, a little shorter than his grandma at 5’3”. She had a pixie cut in typical Korean style and weighed about 135 pounds. Her date of birth was announced on that winter eve, December 12, 1949, her hair was jet-black dyed regally into a sober grey shade to compliment her catlike sienna eyes. She was classy and elegant, wearing a sleek blazer over a feminine blouse, platform sandals, and ornate jewelry that included bangles, chandelier earrings, multiple necklaces, and an impressive wedding ring. "Wait here, putty boy. I get something," Hana declared in her broken English as she meandered back to the store room, departing momentarily. As Zachary was left on his own, he decided to remove his shoes and socks to feel the chilly floor beneath his toes and he began to explore the salon. Suddenly, a need to visit the restroom surged, and, looking around, he identified a hallway that he assumed lead to the bathroom. Walking confidently, he entered. “Oops, I go need potty!” He shouted with his characteristic boyish lilt. The boy took an uncertain step forward and tripped over an object, which he soon realized was Hana’s pair of platform sandals. Scrambling to stand up, Zach found that he had somehow slipped into the sandals. At that moment, something bizarre transpired – his clothing dissolved into nothingness, and his little feet began to crack and age, turning into feminine feet adorned with red nail polish, identical to Hana’s. “I didn't do anything wrong!” he whimpered, “Miss Mommy! Miss Grandma! I only had to potty!” Terrified, he noticed the changes in his own body. He felt older…much older. Older than his mother and even his grandmother which caused him to break down in tears. In this panic situation, he recalled a song that his mom used to sing when he was scared. “Mommy's darling, mommy's joy. Inside the heart of mommy’s boy. Fly high at dawn towards the sun’s warmth. In the moon’s glow, home you come forth!” With the tune of the song in his ears, he felt a small piece of comfort, but as the changes crept up his legs and his body, the tune of the song changed, morphing into a haunting Korean ballad about a woman waiting for her love to return home. “나의 사랑, 나의 행복. (My love, my happiness.) 여자의 마음 속에서. (Inside the heart of a woman.) 해가 떠오르면 저 멀리 날아가고 (Fly far away as the sun rises.) 달빛 아래로 집으로 돌아옵니다. (Return home under the glow of the moon.)” As his voice changed into a mature feminine tone, and his English accent transitioned into a Korean lilt, Zachary felt himself transforming into a completely different person. The diligent sing-song managing to calm him down, and by the time he finished, the scared little boy had now taken the appearance of the elegant Hana Park minus her jewelry and platform sandals. His memories, as a 6-year-old boy began to blur and new images started to form of years past – his life now as the graceful Korean salon owner, Hana Park. She tidied up her blouse and blazer before applying the chopsticks to her hair, steadily transforming into the salon owner that she knew she was. Reality seemed to warp around the woman, now known as Hana Park. In her updated reality, she had neglected to wear her precious jewelry and wedding ring that morning and had decided to walk around barefoot in her Salon, a false memory keeping her unruffled about Zachary’s disappearance when she had gone back to her office. She remembered keeping her sandals and jewelry on a nearby stand for some inexplicable reason, and wandered over to them. Sighing and confused about the boy’s evaporated presence, the near-sighted woman added her earrings, necklaces, and bangles, before carefully slipping her sensational wedding ring onto her finger. Hana’s eyes widened at the sight of her platform sandals placed abundantly on the floor. Bending down, she picked them up, dusted them off lightly, and proceeded to slip them onto her feet. She adjusted her outfit, and the platform sandals that snugly fit on her feet, and walked around her salon like she owned the universe. Staring at the prosperous salon she owned, she had a hunch of not remembering why her brand-new blazer was discarded by her work desk or why her grand jade-lacquered neckpiece was near the entrance. She cleaned up her premises with a slight confusion, but she shoved off the queries as minor forgetfulness, enthralled with her typical professional instinct. “And where did putty boy go?” She wondered aloud, using her own translation of the word disappear, “Just be sitting right here. Never went anywhere.” She couldn't help but note her own petite stature. "Platform high and still small," she huffed, her English dotted with Korean dialect. Scratching her head in confusion, she strutted around taking in the orderliness of her Salon, the signature thumping sound of her sandals echoing throughout the beautifully decorated space. As she walked, she found a family photo of herself, husband, and two lovely children that was knocked off the grand wooden counter. With slight confusion, she placed it back, adjusting her jade-lacquered bangle and admiring her wedding ring that glistened in the salon’s soft incandescent lighting. An eerie sense of calm and control blanketed her thoughts, and she continued to clean the salon.