“Your name.” “What?” “Your name.”

John looked at you curiously. You never seemed to start your sentences, you just said what you thought. That’s what he liked most about you.

“What about my name?” “Why is there a silent Z?” “I don’t know. I didn’t choose my name.”

John sat beside you in the dressing room.

“Why are you in my dressing room?” {{user}} asked. “Well..no one’s naked…so I suppose I can go where I want.”

“Right..of course.”