by David D. Levine

Quote:
This story was first published in Albedo One #31 (2006) and was runner up for the Aeon Award.
Quote:
The receptionist had feathers where her eyebrows should have been. They were blue, green, and black, iridescent as a peacock's, and they trembled gently in the silent breath of the air conditioner. "Did you have a question, sir?"
"No," Jason replied, and raised his magazine, but after reading the same paragraph three times without remembering a word he set it down again. "Actually, yes. Um, I wanted to ask you... ah... are you... transitioning?" The word landed on the soft tailored-grass carpet of the waiting room, and Jason wished he could pick it up again, stuff it into his pocket, and leave. Just leave, and never come back.
I enjoyed this one. There's some great symbolism in here, maybe even a layer though I don't quite see that. Could be though.
The story might be a bit long, maybe too long, but it's so well written I have to ignore that. Do you think the pace could be improved? I'd have to say yes, but it works as is.
I like the ending too, but I'll keep that a secret from you folks. Happy reading.
