His eye was drawn to his reflection in a passing glass door.He gaped.The make-up that the photographer had applied seemed completelydifferent in this ...ight. Looking at his face, he could have swornthat he was wearing tons of mascara, blush, eye-shadow, eye-liner,the sluttiest red lipstick imaginable...He had to get to that locker room.He looked down at his legs, vaguely noticing the way that his sockswere suddenly stretched past his knees and now seemed somehowtranslucent ...And why could he. We didn't talk much on the way downtown; the car wasn't packed but neither was it private, and I didn't see any value in exploring theories of alternate universes within earshot of others. It wasn't until we had boarded the Amtrak Metroliner bound for New York City and gotten our seats that I felt we could talk a bit. I didn't quite know how to start the conversation, so for several minutes the train clanked along and we sat opposite each other."Lauren," I finally began, "What do you think we. More

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