Reza
I’m dressed before I need to be. Hair tied back, comfortable shoes, a jacket light enough to carry if the sun decides to show off. I check my phone once, then set it down again. No messages. No warnings. No friction.
Starla stirs.
She’s been anticipating this too, not the carnival itself, but the normal of it. The ordinary chaos. The laughter.
- We’ll be back early, I say, more to myself than to her.
She hums, content.
When I arrive, Brianna is already on the porch, vibrating with energy, backpack on her shoulders like she’s about to hike a mountain instead of spend a few hours on rides. She’s wearing the brighter jacket, yellow, and the sight of it makes something in my chest loosen.
Sheila comes out behind her, sunglasses on, hair brushed, mouth neutral but not sharp. Her pos
