Mark, my son

"My god Mark?" I gasped, immediately recognising the brown eyed young man in the mirror. "That explains the headache at least, he was out partying with his friends half the night, but how the hell am I in his body dealing with his hangover?"

I scrubbed a hand through his dark, messy hair, trying to reason it out. Had we swapped bodies, like characters in an old movie? If we had, where was Mark? Was he in my body? That seemed the most likely, but then why hadn't he already come looking for me?

As I paced, an errant breeze made me shiver, reminding me I was currently quite naked. Well, I could at least fix that!

Hastily, I pulled on last night's clothes, doing my best to ignore the smell of stale beer and cheap cologne and stuffing Mark's stubbornly resilient morning wood into his boxers.

At least semi-decent, at last it occurred to be that if this _was _one of those body swap movies there would be a magufin. A thing, like a magic lamp or a fortune-telling machine, that triggers the swap. If I could find that, I could probably use it to get my proper body back, but the only slightly unusual thing I'd encountered recently was...

"Of course, that weird phone app!" I announced to the air, "I just need my phone..."