Her form was artfully draped in a white sleeveless shirt, strung with two large hamsas, and her wheat-brown was hair tied up softly and efficiently, cascading down her back to reveal two piercing blue eyes whose gaze I could not escape. Almost immediately that old familiar knowledge prickled behind my brow. It was that innate knowledge all queer people have, like an extra sense. It’s as if we can detect an invisible boundary that is perceptible only to anyone who knows the consequences of overstepping it.