My name's Alex.  I was 15 when I first suspected I might have Moore's Curse.

It was summer, the hottest one I could remember at the time.  The world was crazy and getting stranger by the day if you listened to the news.  Everyone was affected by the fallout from the pandemic that had started a few years back, but for me a lot of what I heard and read seemed far away.  I went to school once a week like everyone else, but other than that I mostly stayed home.  That was unusual, believe it or not - once Justin Moore released his vaccine for the pandemic to the world, after so much time in quarantine almost everyone else my age wouldn't spend another minute in their homes.  It didn't make sense to me.  Riots, hate crimes and violence were everywhere.  The government was held together by a thread.  The vaccine didn't work as promised (to say the least) and people were still getting sick and dying in droves - but it didn't matter.  Pandora's box was opened and you couldn't stuff people back inside.  

But me?  I lived in a bubble at home.  I was perfectly happy to stay in it, even if it came with a social cost..  Before the pandemic, I was just like any other kid, I guess.  Had lots of friends, snuck out, got myself into trouble.   Things were different now, though.  I kept to myself..  I had a few friends I played games with online, but had never met.  Couldn't tell you the last time I hung out with someone.   But I liked my life.  I was coming to learn I was a quiet person anyway that didn't need much attention.  I read a lot, played games, took care of the house.

I did everything around the house, actually.  I had more free time than I knew what to do with, and after a few months of doing some extra chores around the house, I was shocked when I discovered the effect it was having on me.  I felt like I was doing something useful.  And though in a weird way I despised myself a bit for it, when I was doing things like folding laundry or washing dishes or cooking for my family I felt peaceful and content.

And they, my family, were grateful for it.  For the most part.  I lived with two women and a little brother who all had what seemed to me like pretty crazy lives.  Jeanne (sounds like genie), my mom, worked 60 hours a week as the director for a very high end grocery store.  When my dad cheated on her and then disappeared without a trace, she had worked her way up from a front end cashier making nine dollars an hour to a six figure salary in ten years.  She was amazing.  Funny, beautiful, playful, and equally kind to everyone.  Well, almost everyone.  My sister, Ashley (one year younger), and my brother Chris (five years younger), would both say that I got special treatment from her.  The favorite.  I would play it off and say if anything she was just grateful that I actually did my chores.  Truth was, I thought they were probably right.  Maybe I was imagining it.  Weirdly, I hoped not.  She took up a big space in my (admittedly small) world.

Anyway, back to that summer.  For months after the vaccine was released, it was being touted as a miracle.  Justin Moore was on every magazine cover and his name was synonymous with savior.  No new cases of the pandemic from anyone vaccinated.  Everyone got it.  But then, maybe a year later, new cases started cropping up.  Strange side effects started appearing.  None too serious, aside from one.  Moore's Curse.  It only affected teens - boys and girls both.  Around 16 years old, growth halted for an extended period when it would normally be most pronounced..

Then reversed.

Moore's Curse caused shrinking in anyone afflicted.  The degree to which it might go was unknowable.  A wait and see type deal.  One inch, two inches sometimes.  And others, well.. they just kept shrinking.

My whole family was tall.  When I was growing up, my mom would always tell me about dad's freshman year at college.  He was already 6 foot, then shot up five more inches when he was 18.  She was just shy of six feet herself.  I was 5'9" when I was fourteen, about average, but I knew I was going to be tall like him.

Until the next year.  It was summer, I was fifteen, still 5'9"..

And two inches shorter than my little sister, Ashley.  

Tom Sawyer, by the band Rush, was playing in the kitchen on the stereo beside me.  Loud.  It was a Friday, Ash was with friends and gone for the night and mom was at work.  Chris was in his room downstairs and I'd had free reign of the house.  I always listened to music when I cooked or cleaned if I could.  I branched out a little, but mostly classic rock.  Something about it.

It was six, which meant mom would be getting off work about now, and I wanted to have dinner ready for us when she got home.  She rarely got chance for more than a light lunch on the run at work, so she was usually pretty famished by the time she got home.  I wanted it to be something nice.  I was making a curried eggplant with a smoked cardamom and coconut milk dish with an apple harvest salad.  Did I mention I could cook?  Well, that was for mom and I.  Chris was just a kid and wouldn't be caught dead eating eggplant.  Or anything with coconut milk.  Or a salad..  I made him chicken tenders and french fries.

I had the eggplant cooking in some oil.  The oil crackled and a gob of it spattered against my cheek.  "Jesus!"  I yelped.  I set my tongs down and put my hand up to my cheek.  I was about to turn around and get an ice cube from the freezer to put on it when a pair of arms suddenly snaked around me from behind and pulled me into a soft, but strong embrace.  My mother then reached out with one hand and turned the volume down on the stereo.

"Honey, you're going to be deaf before you graduate," she chided.  She was home early, maybe a bit of a bonus for early mornings and late nights the rest of the week.  She bent forward a bit, brushing her cheek against mine.  "Look at all this," she whispered, checking out my mise en place.  "What a perfect way to end my week!  I'm starving.  And the perfect person to share it with, even."  She gave me a kiss on the cheek, soft and slow, as her warm hand came up on the other side of my face and pressed against it, pulling me more firmly into her kiss.  Much like her hugs and pretty much everything else about her, a kiss on the cheek from my mom somehow wasn't just a kiss on the cheek.  She.. she did this thing, that grossed me out so bad when I was a kid, that anymore I just.. didn't quite know how to process.  It was almost like she licked her lips every time just before, or something.  I wasn't sure I knew what it was.  I'd been kissed on the cheek by other people, and it didn't feel like this.  It was soft, and slow and wet, and honestly.. probably borderline inappropriate.  But she didn't act like it was anything unusual, and I didn't want to make her feel weird.  At least that's the reason I told myself for not saying anything.

And I had the same reaction I did every time after it happened.  My mind was momentarily blank, my heart was beating too hard for no good reason and I was dumbstruck and awkward seconds passed while she backed off and waited for me to say something.  "H-how was your day, mom?"  I asked lamely.  She was dressed business casual today, her highlighted brunette hair falling over her shoulders and a deep blue button up blouse that loosely bunched up over her considerable chest.  She chose extremely modest clothing, maybe to avoid getting more attention than she already did.  She'd just turned 40, but she turned heads everywhere.  There were a few lines when she smiled and she didn't necessarily look young for her age or anything but that hadn't stopped every guy I'd ever seen from fawning over her.  That tactic didn't seem to work on her though.  Or maybe she was just focused on work and family.  She hadn't dated anyone that I knew of since dad left.

"You really want to know?" she asked playfully.  I wasn't usually very responsive when she started talking about work stuff, especially the business end of it.  New deals with vendors, problems with logistics, yadda yadda.  

I gave her a bit of an exasperated look.  "Yes."

"Well..." she looked over my shoulder.  "You better turn your heat down if you don't want to have ashes for dinner."

"Shit!"  I turned off the heat and moved the eggplant to an idle burner.  "Oops.  It's still okay.  I think."

She arched an eyebrow at me and then smiled.  "Well..." she said again.  She was a few feet away, and very slowly sauntered up to me.  She had some modest heels on and I had to look up to keep her gaze as she moved closer.  She put her hands on my shoulders.  "I was distracted.  I was tired.  I didn't want to be working, and couldn't think of much beyond the fact that I wouldn't have to come in tomorrow and would instead be spending all morning asleep in my comfy bed, AND..."  One of her hands moved up to the back of my head.  She always had well manicured nails, and she started softly running them up and down my scalp.  I had to fight not to close my eyes in contentment.  "More importantly, the fact that I might be spending the evening with a certain someone, if he wanted to..."

I smiled.  We hadn't made plans but she knew I wouldn't say no to spending time with her.  I didn't get much of it.  She was busy, the family was busy.  Everyone but me, anyway. "Movie?" I asked hopefully.

"You pick."  She said.  That was another thing I liked about her.  She wasn't picky.  She enjoyed everything, found everything interesting.  Action flicks, documentaries, horror, love stories.  It didn't really matter what genre it was, so long as it was good.

"Nice.  I'll think of something," I said, turning around to finish dinner.

"And I will go get comfortable!  Holler if I can help with anything."  I started adding my sauce to the dinner.  She came up from behind me again and hugged me.  I tried not to notice the swell of her breasts against my shoulders and focused on finishing the food.