Now, no more than an hour later, standing on President’s Lawn, Jessica caressed a lit cigarette between her lips, tasting from the haze of smoke that lingered around her mouth. In her free hand, Jessica hefted the red gasoline container to her hip, taking a moment to gaze into the remainder of dusk, the fast setting sun now casting light and shadows onto the pile of clothes strewn on the lawn in front of her. Grey sweat- pants, a pair of which had “GIRLBOSS” bedazzled in pink rhinestones across the backside, Lululemon zip-ups, Urban Outfitters cardigans, Brandy Melville t-shirts, and that one tank top from Jus- tice she could never bring herself to get rid of. These were once valued staples of Jessica’s wardrobe, perhaps even her identity. But now they were just things: girls’ clothes. And of course, Jessica was no longer a girl.
Jessica pondered the thought. How quickly her world had transformed. Eight sweet, aching seconds and now the mirror showed her a different reflection. Her heart beat to a different rhythm. Her hair now styled in a center part. Oh, Eric! The world they had opened up with one another. Together they had sipped from a sweet honeyed wine. But the idea of Eric would have to be cast into the pile of Lululemon and Brandy Melville like everything else from before. From now on, Jessica would only drink from the finer stuff.
She pressed the cigarette to her lips again and breathed in deeply, allowing her body to feel her new skin — a Hugo Boss women’s suit, tight-fit black satin. Because of course, she was a woman now. Exhaling the bitter smoke into the night, Jessica flicked her cigarette onto the pile of clothes sodden with gasoline, erupting her past, her infancy, into a ball of flames. She turned to leave, hesitating as she felt the stick on her inner thigh. It was a badge, a burden, perhaps a scar. One day she would clean it from her body and cast it into the past like the rest of her former self. Not today. A woman had other concerns to attend to.
