He was losing his voice, but Lynn’s request and her improvement over the last three weeks kept him going. In desperation, he had picked Moby-Dick of... his shelf of books he was supposed to have read to try to distract and console his friend and roommate. They had both readily escaped into the book from the beginning when Ishmael lamented not being able to decide whether to kill himself or someone else. At first, he wasn’t certain she was listening to the story, or just to his voice, but lately. As she fluffed the hair with herhand. She told me to look. I did. I was a black haired version ofFarrah Fawcett. That was my hair. I could feel the hair brush my neckand forehead. It felt good even on my ears. I just stared. Hell, thatwas all me. That was Cindy.I sat there stunned. For a few moments I was confused. That wasn?t me,but it was. The girl in the mirror was me, but I?m not a girl. This washow people would see me, but not me Cindy. But I was Cindy. I wasn?toverly beautiful, but I was. More

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