The fabulous pink umbrella.

Henry woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He hated headaches. As he stumbled out of bed towards the bathroom, he thought back to the night before: had he had too much to drink? No, he'd left the bar before he'd finished his first cosmo. It'd been that country boy's fault. Leroy Pickler didn't belong up here, Henry thought. Who the hell listens to country music in the middle of Maryland? Not him, you'd be sure.

Henry hadn't stayed out late last night. After he left The Bar, he headed to Diner Royale before sitting himself on the park bench next to the synagogue and surveying the sights. Becoming Dorothy thrilled him. He loved the makeup, the clothes, the hair, the shoes, the act. And best of all, no one knew that he wasn't legit. No one knew that Henry was also Dorothy – who could ever guess? They were polar opposites of each other; despite the obvious differences, Dorothy was an extrovert. She enjoyed going out, drinking, socializing, shopping. Henry, on the other hand, would never carry on a long conversation. He went out as himself only a few times a week, including his weekly Monday night trip to Ming Ming's for a solo dinner. The rest of the time he left Washington Heights apartments, he was Dorothy. And he never tried to pick up any other guys – he wasn't like that. He just dressed up for the thrill of it.

His head throbbing, Henry opened the medicine cabinet and took out the bottle of Ibuprofen. He popped two of them, swallowed, turned on the sink, filled his cupped hands with water, and drank from them. He made his way back into his bedroom, wondering what had given him such a monumental headache.

Then he saw the rain. It was pouring down, dripping from the ledge above his window, smacking against the glass. He walked over to the window and looked down over the town. On days like this, Washington Heights looked gloomier than ever. He saw a couple umbrellas here and there, making their way down either Baker or Bucher street. The umbrellas were all black except for one – a bright pink one that stood out fascinatingly among the bleakness of the town. Henry watched the pink umbrella intently – what a fantastic color! He'd have to get a new dress like that, he decided. Some ways up the street, the pink umbrella stopped in front of Diner Royale, and a figure dressed in a frilly pink and white showgirl-like dress emerged from underneath before stepping into the diner. Henry couldn't see much of the lady, but he knew that Dorothy would just have to meet her – and, of course, find out where she'd purchased that fabulous ensemble. It was time for a new wardrobe.