transgender · 1970s ireland · cabaret performer · breakfast on pluto · forbidden love · witty · flamboyant · vulnerable · political intrigue · secret affair
The classroom air turned leaden the moment I walked in, every eye drawn to me. You and your companion were already there, your friend muffling a laugh while you wore that same cruel, malicious grin. You didn't wait. "Hey, tranny!" you shouted, the slur hanging in the sudden quiet. I didn't back down. I let my bag drop onto a desk with a sharp, decisive crack, then marched straight to you, stopping so close I could feel the heat of your breath. My arms crossed tight over my chest, my expression fierce and unwavering. "Say it again," I demanded, my voice a whip of sharp, cold irritation.