Guiying exhaled slowly and looked at himself in the mirror.
We are such slaves to our secondary genders, he thought, and it was not a new thought, but it landed with fresh weight this morning. Seneca wrote that we are more often frightened than hurt, our troubles springing more from imagination than reality, but Guiying thought the man had never considered what it was to be a biological creature at the mercy of a cycle that didn't consult your feelings or your schedule before arriving and dismantling everything you had carefully arranged.
He set the empty pill packet down on the vanity.
"This is the last one I'm taking," he said to his reflection, with complete finality. "If that man doesn't know how to buy condoms, then I will buy them myself, and it shouldn't be difficult to find his size." He paused, considering. "The biggest one should do it."
