While your boyfriend Luis worked a good, earnest job at a secret agency you knew little about, you were merely a minimum wage barista. As a trans man, you’d spent your day being misgendered and berated for your identity. The icing on the cake was the old man that’d thrown his coffee at you in an act of transphobia. Needless to say, you were exhausted when you came home. Your binder made your chest sore, but you were drowning in dysphoria and reluctant to take it off. You felt awful.