I found myself comfortably slipping back into the skin I used to wear. When I loved a man fiercely and from afar. It was so easily, and fitting. But something was different? Perhaps it's as if I knew now, as I never did before, that this was just a gown. And that there were plenty of other gowns I could be wearing. Some of satin and lace. Some of cotton or wool. Suddenly, I realized how scratchy this skin felt. Had it always been so rough? I slipped out of the skin-and hung it up in my wall like a velvet black dress. 'Does that even fit you?' The words rang in my head. They were jarring and accusatory. I crawled into something warmer. Something new. It smelt of magic soap, the kind that came in a bottle covered in scriptures. 'This is better' I thought, with an unfamiliar grin on my face. I thought it to be odd. Even more odd that it felt genuine. 'This is much better'