“Gender is a spectrum,” they explained to me.

My brain clicked sideways.

“Like autism?,” I asked.

“Something like that,” they nodded.

My brain spun, then stewed, then spewed.

“I’m not sure that means what you think it means.”

They raised their eyebrows in questioning doubt.

“How would you know? Are you queer?

Or are you on the autism spectrum?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling. “Both!”

Their laughter echoed across the room.

“You’ve been wearing a mask in the closet?

How does that work?”

My own laughter bubbled over as I admitted,

“Apparently, it doesn’t!”

When our giggles unwound, they asked me,

“As long as you’re coming out of the closet,

could you grab my coat? I’d hate to go back

in there since I’m already out.”

“Sure!” I agreed, walking towards the closet.

Looking at them over my shoulder I said,

“I’m guessing you don’t want to borrow my mask?”

Laughter escaped us once more,

filling the room with a spectrum of joy.