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A short story about perceptions from a male point of view. |
The morning starts with a naked walk into the bathroom. The usual sit-down-then-pick-up-a-magazine-and-read-something-nondescript routine. Ten minutes later, the toilet flushes and the hope that this time the water will go down. As the sun rises, the dark living room casts pink shadows. Old tablecloths serve as curtains, lining the room's west-side with a girlish flair. The creep of sewer is still evident, although it's been about a week. A pointed toe turns on the computer and awakens the monitor. The slow glow proceeds from deep turquoise to aqua green. Icons pop up like roses in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Sitting down to log in, buttons are pushed, nobs are turned and before long, the modem hums and a MySpace page stands foremost. Numbness in the legs signal a time to get up and move before the prickles start. Nimble fingers type needlessly and continuously over the keyboard, getting bored and stopping in between each thought. Finally, we reveal... ... our culprit. A five-foot two person, leaning back in a chair. Some sort of waiting space (looms in the mind) and with a tilted smile, the assumption of ease and vacation is made. "Shän," it says. "Transgender". "Orientation: Lesbian". Pushing the Blog link, he... she... ze starts to type: "The Reliability Factor..." After 20 minutes, it's done. The blog is finished and ze signs off, revealing there a satisfaction for ze's male ability, while being born a female. "Interesting stuff," ze says. Ze puts on shoes, shirt, and pants, preparing to be the 'son' of the father-in-law. |