" I'm..." you say again, your voice trailing off."Yes?" the voice asks again.You stare at your reflection, tears welling up in your eyes. You're soclo...e to knowing who you are, but you can't quite reach it. Who areyou?"Let me help you," the voice of John, your male self, from beyond thedoor. "Let me choose a name for you."You stare into the eyes of your reflection. They're your eyes, but theylook different. The longer you stare, the more you see the same eyeslooking back at you from other. There are about ten or twenty people at the concession stand, and they immediately look over in our direction. I smile and wave to them, then Jerome pushes open the opposite aisle door and walks back in the dark theater. He slowly walks down the aisle while I continue to pull on the back of his neck to lift me up, then drop back down on his hard cock. When we get to the stage, he steps up and walks to the middle of it. He turns us sideways to the audience, reaches behind him and pushes my legs. She almost fell backwards before I stepped forward and placed my hand on the small of her back to prevent her from sitting on the road. ‘I think I’ve broken my fucking foot kicking my car.’ The temptation to say ‘no shit’ was quickly canceled out when I realized I was within slapping distance if I dared. ‘Ma’am, I’m going to lift you onto the hood of the car to take the weight off of your foot, ok?’ The only answer I got was a shrug of her shoulders. Not much guidance there but by then I had. " I squeaked again. I reached for my water bottle and took anervous sip. "Morgana, you'll have to excuse me, " I began to say. Myvoice sounded like a teenage girl's. High pitched, feminine, and with aninflection of questioning at the end. No matter how much I cleared mythroat or coughed, my deep, gravely, authoritative voice eluded me."I don't know what kind of trick you're pulling, but..." I said, thoughit sounded like I was shrieking about a Justin Bieber video. At that, asmall cyclone.
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