“I thought I was done grieving,” Iris choked out. “But you unpack a box, and it’s like she died yesterday.”
“I think we have a first edition in the back,” Elara whispered, as if in a library, not a dusty shop. “It’s not for sale, but… I could show it to you.” young and old lesbians
“You’re lucky,” Elara said one afternoon, staring into her latte. “You had a cause. A community forged in fire. We just have… discourse.” “I thought I was done grieving,” Iris choked out
“You’re not a project,” Elara replied, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re a person. The person.” “I thought I was done grieving
“Then we’d better make every sentence count,” Iris said.