I know her exteriors, I know her friendly social housewife persona. But that’s a classification she molded herself into and will preserve, right dow... to the underwear she chooses for herself. I hold them in my hand – white Jockeys, the occasional black or gray. Classic, rounded, reserved shape. Faintly stained. These things aren’t the truth. Why should we always want to know the truth when we can enduringly indulge ourselves in our far more expansive imagination? These cotton delicacies mask. My routine began. Home room.Psychology. Social Science. Then Spanish. I arrived before Tim and tookmy seat. I really longed to see him again. I honestly loved him morethan I can say. I loved him and I loved Tabitha. If he never dressedagain, I'd still love and desire him. The fact that he could become sucha beautiful young woman was just icing on the cake.Tim entered the classroom and made his way back to his seat. He noddedat me before he sat down. Nothing unusual. I watched him pull his. More

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