The black man was also changing, but at a much slowerrate. He shrank, but I realized that so was I. Even through the pain Irealized that the clothes...I was wearing were becoming too big on me, andthe room was becoming larger and larger. I kept shrinking and shrinkinguntil I was buried under a mound of clothes.I was afraid of smothering, but before I had to worry about it, I was freedfrom my clothes by a small black girl. I had no control over my body.Even my head seemed to roll about as. We grew found of each other. Had interesting conversations. Shared lots of interests. After a while, we only split on date nights: Me with some young girl. She with guys every guy that said yes. I fucked a lot of those girls. And sometimes even their mothers. And not as often as I liked their grandmothers. Mum came back home alone. Always. Drunk and frustrated. I often had to nurse her hangover the next day. Or carry her drunk body into her bed. Once she moaned something barely hear able: “If. More

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