Accept Transformation
He walked across the brick with a clarity of purpose and a serenity Connie had rarely seen in him in the times before. He used to look around nervously, sweeping the ground with his eyes, his posture tucked inward, hiding his chest and projecting his doubts. His mannerisms, the way he dressed, the perpetual and painful-looking curl to his spine — it had always been a request for you to forgive his existence. Now he didn’t seem to care about the outside world and its reaction to him at all.
He glided toward her. His rusty-brown hair was freshly cut and bouncy and framed his cheekbones. His eyes casually focused on Connie as he made his approach.
“You’re late,” she admonished him, tossing a Sugar in the Raw packet across the wrought iron table where she’d been waiting. A pot of blueberry green tea, Phoenix’s favorite, steamed into the air. He grinned and opened his arms, somewhat stiltedly, for an embrace.
“It’s so good to see you,” Phoenix said.
Connie pressed herself into his chest. She let her friend hold her for a little longer than what used to be customary. He was bigger than he used to be, his arms thicker, his torso solid. But he still smelled like the Bath and Body Works cologne they had picked out together in their early twenties, the day before he came out as a man.
