I walked over to the door, opened it, and there stood Mrs. Johnson who lived across the street. I said, ‘Hello Mrs. Johnson. Can I help you?’ She ...nswered softly, ‘I just wanted to come over and say how sorry I am.’ I asked, ‘Sorry about what?’ She looked at me and said, ‘You must not know. I will be right back.’ I had no idea what she was talking about. I watched as she walked across the street and then came back carrying a newspaper. I let her into the hallway and she handed me the newspaper,. I leftthe machine flashing and whirring to make a salad in the laboratorykitchen.I had loved salads even in my unmodified past, but my reshuffledmorphology adored them. In my masculine form, a "salad" consisted oflettuce, tomato, and onion. I now couldn't imagine a salad withoutspinach, mushrooms, and red peppers. I'd also lost my taste for onions.Tasting and smelling as a woman has higher highs and lower lows thantasting as a man. I have a much larger array of tastebuds now, anddetect. More

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