I cried for the loss of a friend. The picture placed on an easel was that of a middle-aged man, in a conservative suit. The service was for one Leonar... Andrew Samuel. It was a sad irony that it was not who they buried.To me, she was Laura. I met her sixteen months ago, over the internet. We frequented the same chat rooms, both standing on the threshold of gender transition. After a few months of correspondence, we met for lunch. It's funny how well you can get to know someone through her. The questions flew and I could hardly keep pace. There were very few political questions. Strangely enough none about Hitler."We had our own mass murderer with over twenty million on his neck, so we figured that you probably didn't want to talk about your guy," Victor explained later.It was a fun evening, except that I was forced to pay too much attention to so many unimportant questions and answers when there was a much more important item on my agenda, Svetlana. "You know that we all kept. More

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