Helen was leaning against the outer door frame. The tears had made her mascara run like stripes of black ink down her face. ‘Yes? Can I help you?’...Greta asked. Helen pushed her way past. ‘I’m looking for Harry. I know he’s here. I need to speak to him.’ She took her purse from her shoulder and threw it onto a vacant armchair. Greta looked at her with astonishment of her intrusion. Helen stared back, arms folded. ‘Well? Where is he?’ ‘Excuse me, but I don’t even know you,’ Greta replied. ‘You. "I am NOT a girl. My name IS Ian Freeman. I AM aboy. And you, Melman," I whisper to the stuffed toy, "are the only manwho will EVER share my bed!"I smile as I walk down the long street in my comfortable jeans and warm,snuggly sweatshirt, my short hair blowing in the gentle breeze as peoplewalk around me, the random flashes of their cameras momentarily blindingme with every picture they take."Hey, stop it," I sleepily mumble as the sound of the camera grows everlouder, and the flashes ever. More

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