Rampa

The kalye, a road that reeked of booze and piss, was his runway. It was the same road that his father took when he wore his mother's dress. He would drag him to the nearest drum of water, where their neighbors do their laundry, and shout, "Lalaki ka ba o babae?"

"Babae po!" And every time, he'd become a little bit better at holding his breath. In the end, amidst the constant need to buy powder for his bruises, he would strut along the runway, his head held up high because no one can bring him down.