” I wasn’t too sure about that. As I stepped outside on my wobbly feet I couldn’t help thinking, “It’s just like the story, now I really am ... pretty boy.” I wished that she would buy me dresses and get it over with. In dresses I would look like a girl and there would be no embarrassment. I still wanted to be a boy in my heart but with only two apparent choices, pretty boy or girl. I would prefer girl. Such was not my lot.As I tottered along in my wobbly new boots it wasn’t long before mom led. Peace of mind, that’s what she wanted, needed, wished for, even if it meant forever living alone and unfulfilled. All the while she was desperately thinking of escape, knowing that the weather had shut down all the roads and she was trapped in this prison of her own imagination. Her heart would have to keeping breaking, by halves, by quarters, by eighths, by ... Oh! for however long this torture would continue... Sir Philip received a call from his secretary Patience Page-Turner, reminding him. More

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