Char knows going to a support group is what he needs as it can be hard to break the habits of a lifetime. We all need help from time to time. Sometimes, we could use a little magic too.

The clock ticked on, marking the seconds in a gray wash of code as Char wrapped up his remaining tasks. The soft hum of computers shutting down left an ominous silence in their wake.

“Any big plans for the weekend?”

Char glanced at the clock. 4:45 p.m. Almost time to go. What was one more white lie? “Not much. I was thinking of seeing a movie.”

The smile on the other man’s face was hard to miss. Calling Trent a man was generous. He’d recently graduated from college. Char had no doubt he’d be back on Monday regaling him with stories of his weekend conquests. At least he wrote good code.

Trent said, “Let me know if you see a good one. I’m thinking of asking out that cute girl from accounting.”

Char returned a smile without a care. He had his own problems.

The laughter of his co-workers ricocheted off the office’s walls, a sound which for many predicted the fun weekend to come.

A woman’s voice called. "You coming in tomorrow, Simmons?"

Char didn’t bother to look up. He knew Tamara’s voice. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’ll be here,” She laughed, slapping him on the back with a grin. “You’re always here.”

As the clock struck 5 PM, the herd rushed to the elevator. Char stayed behind, and he took a deep breath. When the sounds dissipated, he made his way to the elevator’s polished metal doors, and saw a reflection of an indistinct shape.

"Have a nice weekend, Charlotte," Char whispered, the mere mention of her name causing his heart to race.

“You too, Char.” He answered in a higher pitched response.

Maybe one day.

City lights streaked past on the drive home. He’d spent months searching for an answer, years if he was being truthful. Tonight was the night.

Char repeated the words. “Tonight is the night.”

The silence in his apartment mocked him as he passed the hallway mirror. He’d once dreamed of a different life but it did little good to focus on the past. Work clothes hit the floor, replaced by a pair of blue jeans.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

The darkness of the closet disappeared in a flick of a switch revealing a lifetime of collection. He’d spent most of the day thinking about tonight’s outfit. First impressions were lasting impressions.. He folded each with care in hopes of avoiding wrinkles before placing them in the suitcase. The makeup bag found its own spot, as did his wig, hairbrush, and a pair of one-inch heels.

Char started to place his breast forms inside, but couldn’t do it. Hurried fingers grabbed a bra from its hiding place. He slipped it on in seconds, a far cry from his teenage years when he’d tried to do the opposite to Jennifer Dorsey.

A smile crept on his lips as the forms fell into place.

Char couldn’t remember the first time he felt like this but for half his life he’d been good at ignoring it. The last time happened in a bar visiting high school friends. One of them brought up the subject of men pretending to be women.

“Why would anyone do this?” One of them asked.

“I have no idea.” The others laughed.

Char didn’t say a word as he knew the answer. Repressed memories of a lifetime floated in his head, the jumbled mess stitching themselves together, creating a panic fiercer than any he’d ever known.

He dared not say a word. He didn’t speak to anyone that night or any night since. Char hoped the ideas would go away but he bought his first bra a month later. And as his friends fell away, his stash of clothing grew.

Char looked down at his hands. He’d insert the breast forms without thought, and now each one cupped a ‘boob’. For the thousandth time, he asked himself:

‘Why would anyone do this?’

Char's hands trembled on the steering wheel as he drove through the city.

To anyone who watched him leave his house, Char looked like anyone else leaving for a weekend trip. A suitcase followed as he locked the front door. His left hand held a box with hidden breast forms.

“Tonight is the night.”

The car headed out, breast forms finding their natural home after he’d gained distance from his neighborhood. The parking lot glowed under the glare of orange street lamps, its silent pulse matching Char’s beating heart.

He’d come to this place every Friday for the last month, only once daring to get out of his car. Tonight he again braved the outdoors, standing in the darkness provided by a shady tree near the lot’s edge.

As usual, the short Latina arrived first, her crimson skirt fanning out like the petals of a rose. As she got closer to the entrance, the light showed tattoos on each arm and up her legs, no doubt with stories of their own.

The tall black girl came next, her midnight blue hair hanging off both sides of a face holding a big smile. As usual, she wore black leather boots which rose up past her knees.

The two chatted as they waited for the last of their bunch. This woman arrived five minutes late, the same amount of time as in previous weeks. Char watched her as her stunning emerald green dress flapped in the wind as she hurried to join the others.

The trio met in a group hug outside the community center’s door.

Char watched their display from the safety of the shadows. The group sounded so free and so happy. He knew he’d feel the same if he looked like them. None looked a day over thirty and their outfits glistened in the dim light. He wanted to know the swish of their long hair, the confident tilt of their chins, and the way their hands gestured with graceful ease.

“I can do this.” Char said as he took a deep breath. “Tonight is the night.”

But same as last week, Char felt his confidence slip with every word. He was forty with a broad body and a mannish face. He could never be like them. It was foolish to try. Char fell to his knees and looked to the heavens as a shooting star passed. He wished he could be a girl like them, if only for one night.

A voice sounded behind him, “Are you going inside?”

Char jumped to his feet, scared at the unexpected sound. He turned to see a woman standing behind him. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

The woman smiled but didn’t look sorry. “Headed to the meeting?” Her voice sounded like a lullaby.

“Me … uhh … “ Beads of sweat formed on Char's forehead. “… what meeting?”

A curious grin formed on the woman’s face, “Aren’t you going to the support group meeting.” She pointed a dainty finger towards his chest.

“The transgender meetup?”

Char looked down, the sinking feeling in his stomach rising as he did so. Two protrusions stood prominent from his chest, pressing hard against his cotton t-shirt.

Char turned away. “I’m an idiot.” Leave it to him for the first person who’d seen him en femme would be a random stranger. He rushed to find the safety of his car.

The woman said, “Please don’t go. I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you sitting over here and thought we could go in together. This is my first time here and I didn’t want to go in alone.” The woman’s blue eyes sparkled, and her smile was warm. Char didn’t sense the slightest malice in her words.

“You’re transgender?”

The woman offered her hand. “My name is Gemma.”

“I’m Char…” Char took Gemma’s hand, finding the courage in her kind grip, “… uhh … I’m Charlotte.”

“Nice to meet you, Charlotte.” Gemma spoke, her voice laced with joy. “We should hurry. I think the meeting is supposed to start soon.”

Char shook his head, “I’m going home.”

“You drove all this way. It would be a shame to turn back now." Gemma's voice softened, but her eyes held an edge. "I know your fears. Everyone has felt like you at some point in their transition."

The words hung silent. Char wanted to believe but he couldn’t stop the whispered doubt, banging around in his head.

"Please?" Gemma pulled Char into a close hug, the smell of her perfume an intoxicating mix of sugar and spice.

Char fell into a daze of thought, the warmth of Gemma’s skin bolstering his resolve. “I have clothing in the car.”

“Awesome.” Gemma squealed. Char pushed a button on his key fob to open the trunk.

Char's fingers trembled, as he pushed open the door to the men's bathroom. Only a few came to this place at night but this act wasn’t without risk. Ancient fluorescent lights flickered above, casting a sterile glow all around.

He hung his outfit on the back of a bathroom stall, nodding at the style. Many of the ladies at work wore similar outfits every day. A gray skirt.
A white blouse. No color. It fit well in the business world in contrast to the unrepentant colors worn in a nearby room.

It’d been a year since he’d last worn this one. The skirt bit into his waist, the blouse fell loose and didn't sit right. It was impossible to find clothing to fit him. He was a misshapen freak. Short for a man, too tall for a woman. Effeminate by nature but with all the telltale signs of a masculine bone structure, destined to always have a foot in each world and yet…

Char smiled as fabric strained across his chest. A zip of the skirt felt amazing even if he’d put on a few pounds. Despite this, it took time to work up the courage to look in the mirror.

"Who do you think you’re fooling?"

The words lingered, his voice sounding of despair but the sight of his makeup case made him feel better. The transformation it performed didn’t take long. He had lots of practice.

“Not too terrible... ”

The shout of voices in the hall drew him from self-pity. A look at the urinals reminded of the danger he’d created for himself. He took little care in packing his suitcase this time. Char tossed everything inside and ran out of the door to the safety of the hallway.

Sounds of disturbance came from a nearby meeting room. His curiosity drew him closer. A look inside showed Gemma standing by a lectern. Every eye in the room turned towards Char as he opened the door but they paid him little mind. They turned back to Gemma just as quick.

The Latina lady spoke first. “Who do you think you are, coming in here, and telling us how to run things?”

Gemma’s eyes never left Char, “You look amazing, Charlotte. Don’t you agree, ladies?”

The woman in the green dress ignored the question. “What did you mean, you promise to give us a night we’ll never forget?”
Gemma shook her head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Don’t you think we should start with introductions. A new person joined us. It’d be a shame if we scared them away.”

“Of course.” The woman in the green dress agreed. “You’re right.” She turned and gave Char a slight wave. “My name is Vivian. Glad you could come tonight.”

The black lady with the blue hair gave a big smile, “I’m Aria.”

The Latina continued to look mad. She didn’t wave or smile. “Mara.”

Char pointed to himself. “I’m Charlotte.” The words sounded stiff and his pride at having said them sent a rush of blood to his head. “I don’t feel so good. I need to sit.”

Aria asked, “Do you want some water?”

“We have coffee and tea.” Mara said, her anger disappearing in a flash.

Vivian smiled, pulling a flask from her purse, “Or would you prefer something stronger?”

Char tried to slow his breathing. “I’m fine. I need to sit.”

Gemma said, “Tonight is Charlotte’s first night out. I thought we could make it special.”

The three ladies turned as one. “Does this mean you’re finally going to tell us your secret?”

"My darlings, all your dreams will come true tonight." Gemma's voice soared with every word, her body moving with a grace Char knew he could never achieve.

“So you say.”

Gemma reached into her purse and pulled out a long, thin wand.

“Oh god.” A chuckle rippled through the group, as all eyes fixed on the delicate wooden rod with a star on one end. Aria scoffed, “What kind of fools do you take us for?”

Gemma showed not a hint of a smile. "Would you like to see a demonstration of my power?" She moved her wand back and forth, the air around it making a crackling sound.

“Sure. Hit me with your best shot.” Aria grinned.

Gemma pointed her wand at Aria’s body and spoke in a voice Char couldn’t understand. Light enveloped Aria in a flash and then her body levitated off the floor. A collective gasp filled the room as the shape in the middle of the light began to shimmer. Everyone watched as Aria’s features softened, her hair lengthened, and muscles melted away. When the light faded, Aria returned to the ground with no trace of a man remaining.

"That’s impossible," Mara said.

“Do me next,” answered Vivian.

“No, do me.” Mara replied, forgetting her doubt.

Gemma smiled at Char. Her wand moved two more times.

Char knew jealousy the first time he’d watched these women from a distance, his feeling even moreso now. Each of them had spent years trying to perfect their bodies, their voices, and their looks. Now … their curves looked more natural, their bodies younger, and their dresses tighter.

“Holy shit.” Vivian said, playing with her chest. “I’ve got tits. Actual tits.”

Mara felt her crotch. “It’s gone.”

“I need to see,” Aria said as she ran from the room.

The others followed in her wake leaving Char alone with Gemma.

Char said, “I guess I understand why you look like a supermodel. Is this some sort of sick game to you?”

“What do you mean, Charlotte? I came here at your request.”

“How so?”

She held up her wand. “You wished upon a shooting star and asked to become a girl for a single night. The simple honesty of your request caught my attention and if you confirm the wish, I will grant it. You will become the woman of your dreams until the end of the day.”

Char stared at Gemma -- piercing, knowing – but couldn’t look away. Remnants of her magic swirled around the room, whipping both dreams and doubts.

Char heard the ladies' shouts in the nearby women’s bathroom. They sounded so free, so alive. “So I understand, you’re saying it lasts until the end of the day. Does that mean midnight?”

“You’ll be like a princess in a fairy tale.”

“This sounds like a cliche.”

Gemma moved the wand back and forth in a taunting manner, “And you’re wasting time..” She laughed in a shrill tone, her voice chilling Char to the core. “Quit stalling, Charlotte. We both know you want this. All I need is a simple yes or no.”

Char nodded. “Yes.”

Gemma waggled the wand, its warmth shooting through Char in an instant. His vision clouded and the light grew bright, as a kaleidoscope of femininity enveloped each cell. Thousands of unwalked paths converged on him in the moment. Impossible dreams affected every fiber of his being, hinting at a future beyond.

Char's feet hit the ground with a thud as he grabbed at the mirror in his purse.

"This is ... me?" Char's voice faltered, brittle with disappointment. The woman staring back didn’t have youthful features like the others. She was older, with lines of life etched into her skin. She wasn’t pretty, nor was she fit.

“I haven’t changed.”

“Yes, you have. Look harder.”

Char put a hand to his breast. “These are real?”

“Checking your breasts first? Now who’s being cliche?” Gemma smiled.

Char pressed down, “My hand is pressing on skin.”

“Of course.”

He reached with his other hand and found … nothing. “This feels so weird. My body doesn’t feel any different.”

Gemma shrugged, “The reality is it’s not so different. I rarely notice my breasts unless they bump into something. Peeing is different of course, but to be honest, I struggle most with walking. The hip structure between the sexes is completely different. It takes a while to adjust every time I change.”

The others burst into the room, one after the other, laughing and smiling. They stared at Char for a few seconds before Mara asked, “Are you going to do the spell on Charlotte?”

Char wasn’t sure how to answer. Gemma answered for him. “I already did.”

“Yikes…” Vivian said, “I’d ask for a refund if I were you Charlotte..”

“Don’t be like that.” Gemma assured, her tone unwavering. "My spell matches a person’s outside to how they feel on their inside. It’s not about looks or youth. It’s about what they choose for themselves.”

Char shook his head. “I didn’t choose this.”

"You are real, Charlotte." Gemma said, her tone unwavering. "This is honest."

An uncomfortable silence fell across the room. Disappointment clawed at Char’s insides.

“Not to be a bitch, but…“ Vivian broke the silence, “… there’s a bar not far from here. We’d never go normally, but it looks like fun and the clock is ticking.”

“We’ll meet you over there.” Gemma nodded. “Char and I will follow in my car.”

The group hurried out the room in a rush.

“See ya.” “Sorry what I said, Charlotte. You look good.” “Bye. Bye.”

Laughs and amazed shouts followed them down the hallway, the sound not ending until they exited the building.

When the quiet returned, Gemma asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Char said, while poking at his boob. “I’m having trouble believing this.”

“It’s real.” Gemma shook her head. “Are you done playing with yourself? I do need to follow them. There’s no telling what kind of trouble they could get in if I’m not around.”

“OK.” Char stood but when he tried to take a step, he lost his balance in the process and had to grab a chair to steady himself. “Wow. That is different.”

“I told ya.”

Char trailed behind as the bar door swung open. Gemma pointed to a table near the back where the others were sipping on drinks.

A steady drumbeat of pulsating music filled the room, its bass begging listeners to dance. Strobes lit the darkness, casting shards of light across the writhing bodies. Laughter and clinking glasses punctuated the rhythm of the bar, creating an overwhelming cacophony of sound.

Char smiled as he thought of his co-workers. ‘What would they think if they saw him now?’ The idea sent a shudder down his spine.

Aria said, “We’re about to head out to the dance floor.”

Vivian asked, "You want to join us, Charlotte?”

Char shook his head, “I’m not much of a dancer.”

Mara said, “Neither is Aria, but that’s never stopped her.”

“Hey!”

Vivian asked, “What about you Gemma?”

“I'm going to watch.” Gemma said, “I need to make sure you four don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Mara asked, “What if we want to get in trouble?”

Gemma smiled. “Duly noted.”

Char looked around, it’d been years since his last visit to a club. The air smelled an intoxicating mix of sweat and sweet perfume. Neon signs buzzed overhead as shadows danced along the walls.

“You should join them.” Gemma said.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.” Char watched the others grinding their bodies on the dance floor..

Gemma sounded more insistent, “You’ll have fun.”

“You saw me. I’m having trouble walking and you want me to dance?” Char shook his head, “I’m not them.”

Mara called from the other side of the bar. "Come dance, Charlotte!"

Char shook his head.

"You should do it, Charlotte," Gemma whispered, "This was your wish. Are you going to waste it? If not the dance floor, how about the bar? Order a drink from the bartender. If you do that, I will cast another spell. I will turn you into a 20-year-old supermodel like the others, if that is what you want."

“You’d do that?” Char said, glancing at the bar, then back to the dance floor.

“I never break a promise.”

“One drink?”

“That’s it.” Gemma held out her hand to seal the agreement.

Char took her hand, his voice climbing an octave as he spoke. "It’s a deal."

Gemma clapped her hands, then tossed a twenty on the table. “I’ll even treat.”

Char wavered as he stood, balancing on heels but gathering confidence with each step. He had to admit he liked the way the skirt’s fabric clung to his waist. His blouse matched this sensation, molding itself so his chest felt every movement. The eyes of the entire bar watched as he passed and he heard their laughter filling the air. Whether it was laughter in support or derision Char couldn’t know.

Every barstool sat empty when he arrived. The mirror behind the bar showed an older woman sitting alone, an outlier compared to the rest of the bar’s patrons.

Beads of sweat traced their way down Char’s spine at the realization he was now on display with the entire world watching and no means of escape.

"Fuck it," Char muttered under his breath, this silent defiance meant as a bulwark against the rest of the bar.

The bartender asked. “Can I get you something, miss?”

Char shot the man a smile when he realized the bartender's last word. The woman in the mirror hadn’t been a ‘miss’ for a long time. No doubt this man knew how to maximize tips.

Char didn’t need time to think about his order. “Do you know how to make a Cosmopolitan?”

The bartender gave Char an annoyed smirk. “Can I make a Cosmo? Ha! That’s a simple request. I can make any drink in the book.”

“Then I’ll have a Cosmopolitan please.” Char had always wanted to try one before, but everyone knew Cosmos were girlie drinks.

The bartender’s hands moved in a blur of motion, intending to impress. He finished with a flourish, straining the mixture into a martini glass.
Char felt the man’s eyes on him as he took a sip. It tasted sweet and tangy without a hint of alcohol.

“Yummy.” Yummy? He sounded like a schoolgirl.

The bartender shook his head as Char placed a twenty on the bar.

A voice sounded behind Char. “You can put it on my tab, Pete.”

The bartender’s attitude became formal. “Sure thing. Whatever you say, Mr. Bryson.”

Char turned to see a broad shouldered man standing behind him. He flashed a toothy grin.

"Is this seat taken?" The man had a confidence about him at odds with his now tentative smile.

"Uh … no," Charlotte managed, her voice a mix of surprise and guarded curiosity.

"Thanks." The man said as he settled onto the stool. “Friday’s draw an interesting crowd.”

"A younger crowd, for sure. This isn’t how I usually start my weekend," Char replied, surprised at his ease with words. He took another sip of his Cosmopolitan.

The man asked, “Do you come here often?”

“No…” Char replied with a blush. “… it’s my first time.”

“I’m sorry if that sounded like a line.” The man’s face reddened. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Char answered without thinking. “Done what?”

"You looked like you could use some company. If you’d rather be alone…"

Char shook his head. “No… It’s okay.” The man looked older, around fifty years old.

“I’m Jim," he said, holding out his hand.

Char took it. “Char … Charlotte.”

Jim pointed to Char’s empty martini glass. “Can I get you another?”

Char nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

They fell into an easy conversation. Jim was a natural speaker. He spoke of his sales job, his kids, and finally his wife. Or more correct– his soon to be ex-wife.

“She’s getting the house and a healthy alimony check. At least the kids are in college so we don’t need to juggle parenting nights.”

Char wasn’t sure how to respond. “I guess that’s good.”

“I’m sorry.” Jim said, shaking his head.

“About what?”

“I always swear before I go out I’m not going to do it.” Jim sighed, “Every time I come here I swear I’m not going to talk about her. You must think I’m crazy.”

“Not at all.” Char shook his head. “How long has it been?”

“We separated six months ago.”

“That must be hard.”

“It gets harder as you get older.”

Char laughed, “Tell me about it.”

“Ha!” Jim said. “I’m old enough to be your father. You’re what … twenty-nine?”

“Ha.. ha.” Char shook his head. “Off by ten years.”

“Nineteen?”

Char laughed harder. “Now you’re being silly.”

Jim smiled.

A silence fell between them, comfortable and warm. It was an eerie feeling, a different feeling. As they spoke, the butterflies Char had gained walking across the bar fell away, replaced by the warmth of meeting someone new.

"Life after divorce... It must be like learning to walk again." Char said.

Jim laughed, “Yeah, only this time, you’re walking on a tightrope and there’s no net. Do you ever feel like that?”

Char closed his eyes, “Oh yeah, all the time. It’s like every time you wake, it feels like you're about to hit the ground. But somehow you convince yourself everything is okay so you can get out of bed to make it through one more day.”

"Heh … heh.” Jim said, his expression softening. “I guess you do understand.”

"More than you know," Char nodded.

The minutes passed, and their conversation meandered through winding paths of separate yet strangely parallel journeys. Each revelation, each shared laugh, wove through a thread of connection between a man searching for a new beginning and a woman whose journey hadn’t started.

Char looked at the clock and saw it was half past ten o’clock. “Oh shit.” Time was running short. “I … uhh … came with … friends, and I’m sure they’re worried about me.”

Char could see the disappointment in the man’s eyes. “I understand.”

“No … no. You don’t. I had a great time.”

“It’s ok.” Jim’s smile remained fixed but his hand betrayed a slight tremor as he placed his business card on the bar. "I know this is forward, but I'd like to see you again, Charlotte.”

Char’s heart hammered against his ribs as he stared at the card. He’d gone too far. Promised too much. "I … uhh…," he managed, as he picked up the card through the hailstorm of emotions.

Jim said, "Don't give me an answer now. I don’t think I could handle the response either way,"

"Thanks, Jim. For the conversation … and the drinks." Char answered, unsure of what else to say.

Jim offered a parting smile before turning away, and after stumbling through the crowd, exited out the front door. Char stared at the card, and considered a thousand impossible endings to their story before leaving the bar himself.

“Cute guy.”

Char flipped the card in his hand. Back and forth, over and over. “His name is Jim.”

Gemma smiled a self-satisfied smile. “You did well, Charlotte. Better than I could have hoped.”

“I lied to him.”

“Ohhh?”

“He thought I was a woman.”

“Aren’t you a woman on the inside?”

Char's fingers danced over the raised numbers on Jim's card, the emotions swirling within him. “You know what I mean.”

Gemma didn’t seem to care. “I know I owe you a prize.”

Char looked to the dance floor and saw the party now in full bloom. Aria and Vivian were grinding against strange men. “Where’s Mara?”

“She’s out back.” Gemma’s sly smile told the rest.

“This is so wrong.” Char said.

“What’s wrong?” Gemma answered.

“We’re tricking these people.”

“Who are we tricking? For the next ninety minutes you can be everything you’ve ever wanted to be. And everything they want you to be," Gemma spoke, her voice sounding like a siren’s song. She pointed to the men grinding against Aria and Vivian on the dance floor. "Do those men look like they’re getting hurt?"

Char closed his eyes as a dozen thoughts twisted inside him, tightening the knot in his stomach which refused to unravel. He felt the weight of Gemma's offer. He could become someone new, someone better.

“I can’t.”

“That’s your fear talking again.”

“No, it’s not.” Char shook his head. “I need time.”

“You’ve had time.” Gemma said, as she pulled the wand from her purse. “You’ve been thinking about a night like this for almost forty years. It’s time to grab what you want. I can make you young and hot. You can be the woman of your dreams.”

Char stared at the dance floor, at Vivian’s wiry frame, and Aria's large tits. Dozens of horny men surrounded them, enchanted at first sight. The drumbeat of music pulsated through the crowd, calling out to Char. He could see himself at their side, all pretty and polished, transformed into a vision of every man’s desire.

It would be so easy to give in. It would be so easy to surrender. But was it real?

“I can’t.” The words sliced to Char’s core, decisive and raw.

Gemma’s face betrayed no emotion. “You will regret this.”

“No, I won’t.” Char said, feeling a clarity of purpose with every passing moment. He tucked Jim’s card into his purse, a memory of an encounter more genuine than anything an enchantment could provide.

"Sorry, Gemma," Char said, his voice firmer now, "I’ve got to go."

As the decision settled in Char’s mind, everything changed. The panic. The indecision. It was like the time in the bar with his friends all those years ago. He denied Charlotte’s existence until that night.

‘Why would anyone do this?’

Charlotte knew the answer. As Char's voice faded into the background, only she remained. She stood with a wink and smile, then walked out the door.

Chill gripped Charlotte as her heels clicked on the pavement, dancing a new rhythmic drumbeat of her own making. The hem of her skirt swished gently, matching the sound of her feet and the bounce on her chest answered with its own ‘boom … boom … boom… responding to every stride. With each step, the weight of years fell off, leaving Charlotte naked before the world.

Her body had its own music. It was a melody which Charlotte longed to hear. With a horizon still clouded by darkness, this song would overcome all her fears.

"I am Charlotte," she shouted into the night, weaving a spell more potent than Gemma’s.

The city lights blinked lazily, bearing silent witness to her transformation. Charlotte appeared no different than any other passersby on the busy street. No better. No worse. Just a part of the nocturnal movements of the city, distinct and vibrant in her own way.

By the time Charlotte reached her car, her gait became a dance which she’d hidden away for too long. There was no going back. Nothing would ever be the same.

The morning sun brought another day, waking Charlotte from her sleep. Her dreams lingered like mist on a river, while the smile remained on her face. She opened her eyes, bracing for reality, still in a body which didn’t feel like home.

She stood in front of the mirror’s reflection, the delicate features and soft curves from the previous night were gone, but the glimmer in her eye remained. Where once stood Char, she now saw the truth.

The same brown eyes which once held uncertainty now shimmered with a light of recognition. A half-smile played on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the change within.

"Good morning, Charlotte," she said, her name no longer sounding like an untold secret.

The reflection didn't change -- a thick-bodied man with short dark hair remained. Many in the world might always see Char. But she was determined to introduce them to Charlotte, the girl at the core, once alone and afraid.

A thousand questions echoed in her head. She needed to speak to family and friends. A discussion with human resources followed by conversations with her boss and co-workers. Medical treatments. Pills. Surgeries. None of it would be easy. All would be dealt with one by one. There would be tears. But she now had her song.

Her thoughts turned to Jim. They’d shared a nice night and a common dream. Perhaps one day he might be a port in a storm, but more likely two ships passing in the night, and not worth thinking about today.

An uncomfortable blush settled on Charlotte’s cheeks as she lingered in the closet. She stood there, probing the darkness before pausing at the boldest pieces of clothing she owned. A leather skirt and maroon sweater with matching three-inch heels -- an outfit she’d bought but never dared to wear -- the dress of her dreams, daring in both cut and color.

Charlotte slipped it on, the fabric hugged non-existent curves yet she found she didn’t care. It shouted its own statement loud and clear. Nothing had ever felt so right.

A ritual of makeup followed, her hands moved with years of practice, confident in every stroke. Foundation smoothed over stubble-shadowed skin and concealer masked the remnants of a life half-lived. Colors bloomed on her eyelids and a touch of mascara coated her lashes. Lipstick sealed her transformation with a bold, crimson smile while a long, flowing, brown wig provided the capping touch.

"The world will see you," Charlotte whispered to her reflection, pushing back the fear looming in the shadows. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Charlotte stood and stared in the mirror – hands on hips – no one would ever mistake her for Char. This was a woman ready to face the world.

Charlotte marched to the living room full of purpose, but stopped before exiting the house. Just inside the door, she found a package and on its top she found a note.

Charlotte, Every journey worth a damn has bumps. Your journey will have bumps too. If you ever feel yourself falling, remember you can look to the night's sky to find me. It's okay to ask for help. I promised a prize, and I always pay my debts. Gemma

A pull on the bow revealed a bottle filled with a bluish-green liquid. Charlotte laughed at the absurdity but didn’t have time for Gemma’s games today. She tossed the bottle in her purse before turning to look at herself in the hallway mirror.

“Time to face the world.”

She opened the door and headed down the front stairs. Morning brunch? An afternoon of shopping? She’d decide on the way. And what of tomorrow? Only the fates could say.

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