His lips were red. They’d never been so red before. He knew this was how he wanted to look. Nothing else in the medicine cabinet interested him. He went to the closet. There was a long black silk dress he loved. His mother never wore it. It belonged to his grandmother. She died when he was two. She’d been a dancer in New York and Paris, his mother said, before she married and become a housewife, finding her true calling in life. He found the dress, took off his clothes, and put it on. He loved the feel of the silk against his skin. He stood in front of the mirror. It was too long and too big in the chest, but he didn’t care. He could imagine himself taller. He turned and posed in the mirror. Hello, darling, he said. How are you? You look stunning tonight, absolutely fabulous. I’ve never seen you looking so absolutely gorgeous. Oh, thank you darling. You’re so kind. May I have this dance? Of course, let’s dance, darling. We’ll dance all night. Oh, lovely, darling, lovely. He stepped on the dress and fell. Oh, I must be drunk already, darling. He heard the front door open. Oh, darling, he whispered. I’ve got to go. See you later. Ciao, darling. Ciao!