I was happiest when I could wake up and see the trees. I would get out of bed and dig my claws into the grungy carpet, open the bedroom door and stand in front of the living room window, stretching and unfurling my wings. The trees in the park across the street greeted me, their branches and green leaves gently swaying in the cool morning breeze.

This view was a savior within the confines of an urban environment. I could almost ignore the constant dull hum of traffic if I tried hard enough.

Almost.

After a few moments, I’d get ready for work. Black slacks and dress shoes with a black polo. Each day, the polo felt tighter around my chest. Was I getting fatter or were my clothes shrinking? A brief thought quickly replaced by the sudden realization that I had to hurry up or miss my bus.

Dashing down three flights of stairs is a bit difficult when you have wings and the stairwell is narrow. I always made it through but not without a bit of a wince as I clipped the edge of my left wing in the doorway behind me.

I got to pass the trees again on my walk to the bus. I got to see thm in all their glory, from trunk to top. They were the guardians of my morning travel.

But now, things are different.

I wake up to darknes - a dusty basement room. I wear what I want to work now but it doesn’t matter because the money I make doesn’t warrant that I dress better. The thick scent of cigarette smoke clings to everything I own. I don’t even smoke but mh family living upstairs will keep smoking until their lungs collapse.

I have two small windows that face the front lawn. I’m so far below the concrete patio that I can’t even see the grass. I see the sky and the electric wires that seem to slice the blue into rectangular pieces. I still have to hurry to catch a bus but I don’t care about being on time. In fact, I think I’m already running late.

There are trees on my walk but it’s not the same. These trees are worn out. They are beaten and scarred. Defeated, just like me.

The T-shirt I put on still feels tight on my chest. The breasts there - I am much more aware of them. My clothes weren’t shrinking. I got fat. And now I’ve realized that I’m a man. I should take an axe to them. The space between my legs is empty and it feels wrong. There it is, my true “axe wound.”

I was happiest when the trees protected me from pain. The trees took the axe for me but now I no longer have their protection. Only in my dreams the trees are there. Don’t wake me up. I am dreaming of trees.