I really hope that she shows up. I mean, her life is good and all, but I really don’t want to be her. I feel so exposed, so different as a woman, and this hair, this clothing, and even this skin really unsettles me. We said meet by the flowers, but she’s not here. Maybe I should text her. She wouldn’t steal my body, would she? My life is pretty good, but not good enough to steal, right? No, of course not. She’ll be here any minute now.