Up to our necks in clothes and shoes that need to be sorted and returned to their generous owners after the drag king workshop, we try to locate specific items of clothing according to long detailed lists and it’s taking time. You hold up a sweater and I try to see if it might match the description we wrote in the middle of another night a week ago. We are as always tired and taxed.

She calls me and asks if maybe maybe we could find a shirt that belongs to her king, he needs it for tomorrow, she implores me to search for it, you shake your head and swear and say no way, we have enough to do as it is.

I delve into the piles with another detailed visual description and looking for a white shirt among dozens of white shirts is no fun at all. Until I realise that there’s another way.

I close my eyes and hold the shirts to my face and in a matter of seconds I know. I know which shirt belongs to him and I know the answer to a question I have asked before. I inhale deeply, breathe in through the shirt and feel a smile breaking through on my tired face.

He shares her body. He shares her skin. He shares her scent. I’d know it anywhere.