I struck a match and the shadows of the room came alive, dancing and wavering with the flame. Drawing slowly on the match, the smoke reached deep with...n my lungs. I exhaled, extinguishing the flame. I turned to the window and stared out at the black and blue of night. Thoughts of her started creeping back in… the loss… the separation. My eyes began to mist as the hollow pit of my stomach swallowed another piece of my heart. “I can’t keep living like this. I need out of this hell. Please, God…”. As Isat down I swept my hands under my thighs and crossed my legs at theankle. Over the last month or so this had become second nature to me,considering at home I was in a dress most of the time it was habit. Mr.Jensen started by explaining that there had been complaints by many of myfellow managers that my output had fallen off dramatically. That it wasobvious that I was going through a transition, and while that normallywould not be an issue, my less aggressive work ethic has caused others. More

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