​     Trevor got a look at himself in the cold, harsh bathroom light to see an all but bald thirty-four-year-old man. A few hairs around the temples, but that was it. 

     He looked down at himself in his T-shirt and underwear.

     He expected, for some reason, to see trained, taut muscle. 

     What he saw, instead, was a body that wasn't out of shape, necessarily, but one that obviously hadn't known the inside of a gym since high school. He had a paunch going. 

     It was the same body, in other words, that he'd been looking at his entire life. 

     So why did it look so, like, ​not his body all of a sudden?

CONTINUE