The picture placed on an easel was that of a middle-aged man, in a conservative suit. The service was for one Leonard Andrew Samuel. It was a sad iron... that it was not who they buried.To me, she was Laura. I met her sixteen months ago, over the internet. We frequented the same chat rooms, both standing on the threshold of gender transition. After a few months of correspondence, we met for lunch. It's funny how well you can get to know someone through her written word. By the time I met her. And maybe the New Inn and all.Paul followed the signs to 'La Playa' which he guessed meant 'beach', but you wouldn't have guessed that as the trail led him through thick brush and over rocks. Finally, perhaps a mile or so later, he was at last at what was a beach. But was it a nudist one?Paul nervously walked along, glancing at bathers dressed in normal swimsuits. Just past an official looking sign he could see bodies in the distance which, squint as he could, displayed no evidence of bathing. More

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