"Our son is called Clark, not Clara. And no son of mine is ever going towear a dress!" I replied angrily."You are going to disown our son if he is tr...nsgendered? What kind oftransphobic father are you? You really should apologise, she was sohappy being one of the girls," Isabel replied with just a hint ofsurprise in her voice."You think I am transphobic just because I don't want to see Clarkwearing a dress? Well you can call me transphobic, I don't care!"Isabel decided she would not try to. Still nothing. After stepping from the walk-in closet, he stopped dead in his tracks. The bed was unmade and rumpled. There on his recently deceased wife’s side was that which he hunted. The .45 automatic lay there, the magazine removed, and the one round meant for him that night rested atop of a piece of paper. Slowly, he walked to the side of the bed, and then sank to his knees as a silent tear trailed down his cheek. The paper was one he had buried with his wife just that morning. He put. More

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