Liora
The rain didn’t bother me.
Mia would shrink away from it, try to avoid the frizz or the cold or the mud. But I always would something oddly comforting about the way it blurred the world a little. Like everything was smudged in watercolor, and if you stared long enough, nothing really looked that sharp. Not even the people throwing trash at you.
The crumpled paper ball bounced off my shoulder. I didn’t flinch.
Another one arced toward me. Missed.
“Oops,” someone snickered behind me. “Trash attracted trash.”
I tugged my hood further up and kept walking, letting my boots squish in the puddles like it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t. I was over it. Over all of it. The whispers, the snide comments, the disgusted stares like I’d spit in the school’s holy water.
Let them waste their
