She handed me the old Martin. I took hold of it carefully. It was quite a beautiful instrument. All the varnish on the neck was warn smooth from years...of playing. The guitar was in remarkable condition save for areas like the neck which were warn smooth from years of loving use. "Do you have a favorite Beatles album?" I asked. "Rubber Soul." She answered. "Really? Mine too." I was surprised in a very good way. I held the gorgeous old Martin and began to strum as the gorgeous young Cheryl looked. Of the psych ward.I guess I had a complete breakdown. It's not so surprising really. Iguess the stress was just too much for me.Some of the doctors suggested a sex change might be the answer.But then what would I be? I mean, wouldn't that still just be pretending?Could I really just go back to being what I was like nothing everhappened.I guess I can never be entirely the same again though. I mean, I couldn'thave kids. And I would still genetically be...what I've become. Not tomention my new. More

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