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Summary
“Kim, I think I might be a ladyboy.”
Kim is too well-controlled to crash the Kineema after that statement, but his fingers do tense on the steering levers. Masterfully, he regains his composure just in time to take a left turn. His eyes catch Harry’s in the rearview mirror. “What?”
After weeks of thought projects compounded on thought projects, evolving wardrobe choices, and explanations of unfortunate terminology–”that’s a slur?” – they had started to fall into some sort of understanding. Times when Harry would say a single word, he or she, and Kim would make the switch. It was new and at times, confusing; Kim couldn’t say he understood the appeal himself. But the look on her face when he whispered quiet sentences to her, as if he were talking to someone else– “This is Harry. She is my partner. She enjoys disco.” – it explained everything he needed to know.