“Let me crawl out of my skin and put on something more comfortable,” she said; closing the bathroom door, muffling the sound of running water. Hot steam slipped out from under the door – wanting to escape. He did not know who would be there when the door reopened, but he hoped she would still be there, unchanged.

“I should say something,” he thought, panic growing in his heart…

He loved her just as she was, and the thought of seeing her differently scared him. She was perfect just as she was, just as he had always saw her, and he did not want that to change. But she was a shapeshifter. Who she was, was whoever she wanted to be. She told him to trust her. She had said, “Who I am is who I am on the inside, not on the out. To love me is to love all my faces, textures, and shapes.”

He had agreed, but that was when it was all abstract, theoretical. Now it was all too real and… The water stopped. The steam dissipated. Moments later, nervous heartbeats later, the door opened, and there she was. He recognized her smile, her walk, her love.

— Kelcey Gibbons