The Trial of the Transvestite

He didn’t know what was in store for him at the party

Photo by Alice Alinari on Unsplash

I usually see him in the carport near the laundry rooms. He lumbers like an old lady, hating his life and where it has taken him. His walk seems to have little purpose. It’s always the same heavy shuffle. But something about the walk doesn’t jibe.

There’s a rotation in his shoulders belying another life, another profession. Like a…