I walk the four blocks to the bus stop. My cheeks burn. It is hot and I am ashamed. I have just admitted that I can’t be who I want to be. When I reach the overpass, I see a man sitting on the fence that borders the bridge. At first I think he has found a place to rest as he waits for the bus, but then I watch him slip and he is gone. I blink. Was he ever really there? As I start to walk...