Your neighbors are nice.

They have a farm and he lets me feed the animals and clean up around the horses for money. She makes meals and demands I be there for every one. I'm skinny, she says.

I couldn't help but notice, when I went back for some of the clothes Tink left me in that old shed, that the door seems smaller. It was weird, Wendy. And then I listened to your neighbors call me 'young man.'

And I did think it had been odd, them giving the job to someone so young.

She - Maria, your neighbor - told me I should go into the bathroom and clean up. I saw myself in the mirror, Wendy.

And I grew.

I grew up.

I cried, Wendy. And I was glad for the shower being so loud because I couldn't stop crying.

But don't worry. I don't regret it.

It's just . . . I don't think I can go back to you.

Things are so different now. Besides, would you even recognize me?