It didn't work. She's resilient, and can survivewith very little. And I couldn't forget, not completely. She was at theback of my thoughts constantly,...at work, in my sleep. A dull pounding, myvery own telltale heart beating out the same three words over and over:let me out. Let me out. Let me out. Eating dinner with my parents, andthey ask, how have you been? Let me out. Brewing a pot of coffee in themorning before work, Let me out. It's still there, that unending refrain.Sometimes it's louder.. The dinner experience itself wasmuch the same as the night before but with a much more conservativeapplication of wine. I couldn't help but notice the whole time that Amywas staring at me with bewilderment. It must have seemed impossible toher I guess to see her husband-to-be as I was now but I hoped she couldstill see me as me when this was all over.Despite my fears nothing happened over dinner, no-one accused me of beinga man or asked why I was dressed this way or asked us to leave. More

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