The first time Daniel slipped into his sister's room, the house was hushed, his parents already asleep, the clock ticking like a warning. He had no plan, only the restless itch that came over him some nights when the walls of his conservative home pressed too tightly against his chest.
Her closet smelled faintly of lavender and hairspray. His fingers hovered before they dared to touch the silk dress hanging at the front, its fabric smooth and cool, like water over stone. He slipped it off the hanger and into the half-lit bathroom, locking the door behind him as though he were locking out the world.
The dress clung awkwardly at first, too short at the hem, too snug around the shoulders, but when he caught his reflection in the mirror, something softened. The boy staring back wasn't gone,
