She wasn't ready. Neither of them.
They rehearsed individually since childhood. They went mad, they cross-dressed and exchanged basic roles. Mothers ruled the streets, fathers ruled the households. She dressed up like her father, wearing ties, suites and a dark moustache. He dressed up like his mother, wearing high heels, earrings and lipstick. They assumed their place and stole the other's life, making it their own. Their lives parted ways years later, but none of them was ready. The playhouse turned into a huge house made of stone. The toys were objects left for the poor ones in a faraway continent. Life multiplied in terms of periods of maturity, going-to-hell, love and sex. Meantime, them as many others, got stuck in the middle of cross-dressing on the playground to imitate life. The clock never stopped ticking.
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