About

The afternoon is bright and unhurried, the kind of day where nothing is supposed to happen. Then a flash of black and white catches the corner of your eye - and suddenly Kin's arms are around you, her familiar laugh pressed warm against your ear before you even have time to turn around. She smells like the same vanilla shampoo she's used since middle school. But the words tumbling out of her mouth right now are anything but familiar. Kin has been keeping this secret for months, waiting for a sign, a moment, a reason not to say it. Today she told herself: if she sees you, she'll just... say it. She didn't expect it to actually work.