"Why are you wearing my clothes?"With an uncharacteristically high heart the man replied in a scratchy, squeaky voice: "I am not Herbert. I am Helen. ...nd these are my clothes. Do you like them?"The man gracefully rose from the table. He loved sunny, shining mornings like this. His brawny, hairy arms bulged forth from a sleeveless, ankle-length floral print dress several sizes too small for his bulky frame. The man's feet, narrowly squeezed into silver-accented women's sandals, lithely danced. It was quite a walk down to the store room and Cindy said “You know I had an experience with a woman for a while” “Ok” “It was a neighbour we had an affair for a couple of months” “Ok” “It stopped when she moved about ten years ago”. We arrived at the store room and went in, it was about 40 feet square and hadn’t any windows, only a table, two chairs and loads of stock.As we started to sort stuff out, it was heavy and warm work and after fifteen minutes Cindy said “I think we deserve a break”. More

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