Demyan
Even though I knew I should have not, I did anyway as I sat on the floor of my closet back at home with my travelling bag laid out in front of me. Ethan had helped me pack my bag for my trip to Trinidad because he wanted me not to feel ashamed of dressing like who I was.
The bag consisted of clothes I always wore when I went to Trinidad with my family, your loose kaftans, shorts and crop tops because the heat could be so much you barely wanted clothes on your body. Then for winters I would still be daring with jersey dresses and bootleg jeans with a fur waist length coat.
Normally no one batted an eye at me, maybe because no one cared or maybe because I was with Dad that no one felt that disrespectful to stare or comment. I had always been comfortable when I went home and I always felt widely accepted.
