_Standing still, by a fountain, in a plaza. A splay of Christmas lights—the tiny, elegant, white kind—spell out, “0th Anniversarie.”_ Gentle Vigour: I don’t want to be a woman any more for right now. Rain Song: I don’t either. Gentle Vigour: Why not? Rain Song: Because I want to be a man so I can make love to you. Gentle Vigour: But that’s why I wanted to change back. Rain Song: Well. Let’s just—both switch. Gentle Vigour: But that would make us— Rain Song: —yes—? Gentle Vigour: —— Rain Song: Friend, are you trying to say, “gay”? Gentle Vigour: Gay? Rain Song: Gay. Gentle Vigour: I mean, gay, as in— Rain Song: Gay. Gentle Vigour: And you’re sure? I mean, really, it’d still be okay I could still love you even if we were— Rain Song: Gay. Gentle Vigour: And you would still love me, I mean, despite my being— Rain Song: Gay. No, not despite. Gentle Vigour: Well . . . . Rain Song: What do you say, dear? ME: Oh my god. I get to be gay despite the bastards in school. HIM: Yep. Me, too. _Exeunt they to a place called . . ._