Jim said, “Something’s not right with you.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“No, no, Kit. I know you. Something’s not right.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re moving around fine. It’s your heart.”
“My heart?”
“No, no. Not what I meant. Your spirit. You’re not happy.”
“Sorry, boss.”
“I don’t think it’s you at all. I think it’s your brain.”
That my brain might not be working quite right had never occurred to me. He said I should look into meeting with a psychiatrist.
Dr. Olsson told me that I had to choose a gender and be happy with it, or take a pill to lift my spirits. I chose the latter.
MOM GAVE ME some money for the down payment on a small house on West Tamarack Street, a few blocks away from where I grew up. It suits me well because there’s no pressure from anyone to decorate my place. I never have
