Two strangers who once were not. Or were they?
There’s a name for my generation. Children of Baby Boomers who arrived some calendar pages too early to be Millenial. Generation X.
Some nights are a turquoise tango, some days are an orange solo.
If you were in drag, what would you be like? And where does the drag stop and where begins your identity?
Why is forgiveness so hard? Because it involves going back to face deeply unpleasant feelings. Does saying sorry guarantee forgiveness?