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He had managed to suppress his femalethoughts though he had cried buckets at the end of ET. What bugged himwas that his life seemed destined to crash and burn. He couldn't see anyway in which the outcome could be good for him.He had the usual wait as always for Joanne to use the bathroom. When hefinally got in, he started to look in the mirror at his face, seeing ifthere was any difference. His face was still rough, showing signs ofstubble. He proceeded to have a shave as well as wash. He left with atleast some relief that he still looked 100% boy.He had his breakfast, hoping to hide his worries as best. He had to tryand live each day as though nothing was happening. He still foundhimself having feminine thoughts and when these came to the front of hismind, he made sure to remain mute. The obvious thoughts were stilladmiring his mother's appearance. She was in her late 30's and stilllooked wonderful. Her red hair was still full of volume and her figurewas slim but still curvy. She. He took a deep breath and opened the envelope. There was a single piece of paper inside. ‘This is it’, he thought, ‘My Dear John letter’. He took the paper from the envelope and unfolded it and was surprised to see it was not on the Peabody letterhead. It was not a letter at all; in fact, there was no writing at all on the page.But what he saw was familiar. It was the rudimentary pencil drawing of his face that he’d drawn in Grace’s kitchen on the morning he’d left her. But the big downturned mouth had been erased, and it had been replaced with the biggest ear-to-ear grin the drawing would allow. In bright blue ink!Chili felt paralyzed. He raised the paper to his nose. It was her all right, that clean, citrus sweetness. He looked up and his eyes panned the lobbyscape in front of him, once, twice: The check-in counter, the elevators, the concierge desk, the many faces. He stood up and took a couple steps forward for a different perspective and searched again.He saw the dress before he.
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