I'm on my way to Madison, and so much has changed. The leaves on the Wisconsin pines fade, fall apart and grow again. The ride is bumpy, but it's slowly passing, and at that moment, I take my white eyeliner and shape my eye carefully like the waning crescent moon. It creates an illusion of me being more awake and emphasizes the whites of my eyes. I trailed off and took a deep breath in. As I let out my breath, a weight is off of my shoulders, too.

***

6 am, the sun rose early today. I put my arm through the window sill to catch the dewdrop falling off the neem leaf. Mom came in from the other room and hurriedly put kajal on me to ward off Nazar. It's our little morning routine. I noticed that she would never put black; it was always blue or green. Why would my mom never put black kajal on me? I think. I hear the bus shuffle past my stop from outside my window.

"Hurry Up!" screams mom.

"Why do you never put black kajal on me?" I asked.

"Black kajal is typical. I don't want you to try to fit in!" said mom. Her voice was suddenly serious. "I put different colors of kajal so one day you can choose your own that embraces your differences." 

Puzzled and confused, my eyes widened.

"Now run and catch the bus from the next stop!" said mom. 

***

It's the last hour before sunset. The sun hits the clear white snow, and its reflection comes through the window. As it enters the window, the beam of light scatters through the dust particles from the old seats of the bus. Ever since I was a kid, whenever the sun fell on my skin, the sun's warmth made me smile, and even on the worst days, I knew that everything would be okay as long as the sun lasted. 

"Could you take a picture of me?" asks the person seated across me.

I spin the zoom ring and adjust the shot angle. Lightly press the shutter and then release. Under the sunlight, I could see an intense release of dust as the aperture unfurled, and then I pushed down harder on the shutter release—clicking sounds. For ten seconds, I look through the eyepiece. The nine-year-old had just decided to cut off their hair. I overheard those boys whispering that a body shape other than eight figures or an hourglass waist is undesirable. They don't know that I'm one of the seven colors of the rainbow. Her sixth sense told her about me, and now she knows. Five years later, everyone knows who I am. Four of us dye our hair. Three wishes: I understand more about my relationship with femininity; I embrace more of that inner-childlike feeling while growing up; I come to terms with my gender fluidity. As I hold her hand, I know it's the two against the world. One. Click.

***

As seen through the bus window, I notice the moon sitting low on the horizon, with pinkish hues. I see the smooth, dark plains on the moon. I see the emission of bright rays from the craters on the moon. The patterns seem like a person on the moon.

***

Last year, my family went to my birthplace in Odisha in October. We celebrated Kumar Purnima; an autumn festival celebrated on full moon day. As an atheist, the festival did not mean much to me, but it did to my mom. She woke up early to cook. She forced me to wake up early and offered food that she cooked to the sun god at sunrise. The food was again presented to the moon in the evening. All in hopes of finding a young, handsome groom. I dreaded this tradition because it was for the kumaris-unmarried women- and I don't like being associated with that identity. 

***

A couple walks in. I hear them talk to another person on the bus and quickly catch Andy and Jess's names. While talking to the other person, Andy misgenders Jess by using the wrong pronouns, but Jess corrects him immediately in the most subtle manner. 

"Hey, you know that I'm non-binary, right? We've talked about this so many times!" said Jess seriously.

Andy makes an annoyed face and said. "Okay, but I don't believe in using 'they or them' in the singular form."

Jess began to cry and said. "Andy, you don't get it! My pronouns are an important element of my identity, including my name, how to approach me, contact me, and accept me. My pronouns reaffirm my being, physical space, sensory perceptions, and accessibility to the spaces."

Andy snarls and said. "Well, you're just a girl, and you'll always be a girl."

Jess had had enough. The most recent act of injustice was too much for anyone to bear. Andy cannot possibly say that. Jess made up their decision after travelling back and forth along the passageway for the third time. They decided to disembark the bus. Only then Andy would become aware of how awful he was to them. Jess carefully removes their luggage from the cabin to not disturb other passengers. They snuck out of their seat, slipped on their jackets, and tiptoed out of the bus with their bags.

I looked out of the bus to see Jess walk on the sidewalk. Adults were scurrying past them on the streets. They would occasionally look back to see if Andy was following them. But each time they looked ahead, they smiled, and I could tell Jess felt satisfied as they knew they had made the right decision.

Andy knew he deserved it as he watched Jess exit the bus. I could tell his mind was blank since he didn't say anything for a long time.

Andy finally whispers, "I'm sorry."

He stared out the window at Jess, who didn't give him a passing glance. Tears streamed down his face, one after the other.

***

It's our first anniversary, so I put on my heels and wear a red plaid patterned dress. It's the first time that I winged my eyeliner perfectly. Isaac waits in front of my door with a succulent. Last summer, we talked about how Greeks wore flower crowns to honor their goddesses and that I did not feel like a goddess. I made a mixed tape for Isaac. It was all the songs that we listened to as we fell asleep under a tree that summer afternoon, where we met for the very first time. 

We drive out of Rosemont to the Chicago downtown. We travel eastbound from O'Hare and onto the Kennedy Expressway. I look out the window extensively to see all the other vehicles pass by us. Outside the car window, all that was there were billboards and wheat fields. As the car moves further, the Chicago skyline begins to appear faintly. The closer we move, the clearer it gets. I want to live in the bright lights.

We go into Eataly and find a table by the window. We played that little game where we looked out the window and guessed what people walking by us talked about. The moment, however, was quickly interrupted by Isaac's friends. Isaac changes around his friends. All they talk about is soccer. I lose the thread during their conversation. But, I hear my name, and Isaac refers to me as his girlfriend and uses the wrong pronouns. My heart dropped as I realized Isaac would never stop perceiving me as a woman. I nibble on my fingernails. My eyes well up with tears. I quietly walk out of Eataly and dial my mom's telephone number to get her to pick me up.

***

My eyes close while listening to "Cuff Your Jeans" by Claud. My dreams gently lap reality. I'm dancing in my room as I try on different outfits. I put on a white shirt and wear a tie. I grab a handful of hair gel and shape my hair. Suddenly, the bus stops at the Dutch Mill Park and Ride terminal. As the bus stops, my head hits the window, wide awake. I reached Madison. The bus takes a roundabout. The noise and traffic gradually as the bus got closer to the downtown. 

"Hello everyone, we have reached 250 N. Lake St. Thank you for riding with us!"

My bag pushes against every seat as I struggle to make my way out. Breathe out. Five minutes away. I sprint. In my head, excitement whirls like cotton candy, and a charge courses through my legs like waves. I feel the warmth surge through my chest. 

My fingers struggle against the door. Soon, I ease past the hefty wooden door. It finally gave way. I threw my bag against the kitchen counter. I walk into my room and find myself peering into the mirror atop the maple desk. The reflection is not mine, even though the eyes are identical. It's been a minute, and we are still staring at each other. I set my palm on the mirror to match hers, but all I feel is the chilly surface. With her hair put up, she looked rather beautiful. I have never been able to achieve that. It always looks disheveled. As I continued staring at her, I wrapped threads of my hair around my ear.

I can feel the breeze with the windows open. Our eyes meet again. Her iris spreads wide, making the pupil smaller as the yellow light illumes her eyes. It's a gemstone mixed with copper baltic amber. I feel a shiver run up my body as I realize she is not me. My eyesight becomes darker and smaller, almost kaleidoscopic. I could see stars as I closed my eyes and pushed down my eyelids. They wander around to catch hers as I open my eyes, noticing the white eyeliner. 

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. I look in the mirror and wrap my arms around myself below my chest. The feeling of being wrapped up in a warm blanket as you're lying in bed: their dyed hair, cuffed jeans and oversized earrings. I look at each of my piercings and tattoos. I play "Cuff Your Jeans" by Claud and dance with joy. I shape my hair with a handful of hair gel. I change my outfit and dress in a white shirt with a tie. A weight is off my body, and I feel free.