I wash my hands in the bathroom sink; I see my reflection in there. I am wearing make up and I?m in a flowered dress. These are clothes men were never...free to wear. But this is not a precious thing in my life, clothes are just a tool to preserve decency and keep you warm. I also see my lovely red hair cascading down my pretty face, my dress fitting against my body, shaped in subtle ways by my hips and bust. They are an impressive set of hips and bust too, but no matter how lovely they are on. “How do you feel about it?”“Pretty good, actually.” Ifeoma admitted.“And really relieved — I didn’t think I would ever finish it…wow, and it’s only 7:30!” She looked amazed.“Yep, you worked hard. I would give you an A.”She smiled shyly at his praise. “So..big plans or the holidays?”“No, not really. Since my folks and Gran moved away, it’s just me,” she sighed.“I can relate,” Nnamdi said, nodding.“Doesn’t feel much like Christmas this year.”Ifeoma looked around at his tidy, almost Spartan,. More

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