K., less careful than I am, is changing on the strip mall parking lot again. Fans catch sight of him, pull up in a brown Honda, honk and cheer. K., half in drag (half out), dances sexy for them in front of Hallmark, nipples tense in the wind, glitter wig slipping. He leans over the hood of a car, mimicking a girl in an ad, pretending cleavage. I zip my coat. A purple boa spills out the Honda window like a makeshift flag. I take everything back.