He held up a bottle of bright red nail polish and placed it in front of me. “Your hands give you away,” he said. “If you’re going to commit to this, commit all the way.” I uncapped the bottle, my hands shaking slightly. One careful brushstroke became another. A few mistakes forced me to start over, but gradually each fingernail gleamed with a glossy crimson finish. “Now your toes,” he instructed. I hesitated, then nodded. When I finished, i sat quietly, waiting for the polish to dry. I glanced in the mirror, saw myself in lingerie, make-up, wig and red nails. “How does it feel?” he asked. I turned ny hands over, studying them from every angle. Such a small change, yet somehow it felt surprisingly significant. Every glance reminded me that I crossed another line. He smiled. “Good. You’re beginning to notice the details. Sometimes the smallest changes are the hardest to ignore—and the hardest to forget.”