He didn't care. He downed it quickly. Art looked athimself in the mirror, just to the left of the front door of his houseand took a deep breath to ste...dy himself. It had been six weeks sinceArt had first taken the dress from his mothers wardrobe and slipped itover his head. Six weeks since he had sloppily applied foundation andeyeliner and lip gloss to his face in an attempt to pass himself off asa girl. Six weeks since he had lay on his mothers bed, revelling in thefeeling of the dress against. It smells of you.Outside the wind is a solid wall of sound. Only the stunted pine at the edge of the timberline impede its flow. The distant peaks are bathed in dim light, giving an almost unearthly beauty to our perch on the mountainside. Our tent is pitched on the soft, springy tundra, now matted by the rain.More wails in the distance! My blood runs chill, but you are there to reassure me. I cling tight to your hand and squat, my skin numb with cold and my hair already damp. At first I cannot. More

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