An olderwoman sat on a bench with a cart full of laundry in front of her. Shelooked up and immediately shook her head and shot me a look of disgust.I stood there at the corner, watching men slow down, practicallyveering toward me as they drove past. One older man nearly drove into abicyclist as he looked out his window in my direction. I'd be lying ifI didn't admit that I absolutely loved the attention. Once I realizedthat virtually everyone who saw me thought I was an attractive woman,and not my male self, I started to feel more at ease than I had in avery long time, maybe ever.After a few more minutes of waiting, I'd taken out my compact and wasonce more touching up my lipstick, when a black BMW slowed down andpulled up to the curb. The window rolled down and without seeing thedriver I heard a familiar male voice say, "You look a little lost,missy."I froze for a second, knowing that there was something very specific Iwas supposed to say. I cleared my voice as he leaned forward so. No! She had to reach him! She tried to go back, but she was being ripped away now, up through the cold grey clouds. And she realized she was no longer in the dream. She felt her eyes move under her eyelids. She heard herself breathing. She felt her arm move underneath the comforter. She was in bed. Home. The boat was gone. Danny was gone. Yet she felt something moving. A warm hand rested on her stomach. Not her hand. And something else was moving back and forth. A thumb. There was a thumb in her bed. Also not hers. She felt a hand on her stomach and a thumb was moving back and forth over her belly button. Odd. But still, it felt nice. She breathed in deeply and opened her eyes. Groggy. As her eyes focused, she saw a dark mass next to her. It was a man. There was a man in the house. Again, odd. She focused. This was important. She looked the figure over with logical eyes. He was wearing a dark jacket, plaid shirt. He had broad shoulders. Silvery glasses nested in his spiky black.
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