The first breath Abbie took in Montreal burned.
It wasn’t the sharp kind of cold she’d read about, it was heavier, cleaner, almost violent in its newness. The air sliced through her lungs like glass. Her fingers went numb before she even reached baggage claim.
She tugged her coat tighter, fumbling with the zipper as strangers brushed past her in heavy boots and thick scarves, their conversations stitched in English and French. The sounds tangled like music she didn’t know the rhythm of.
Then, through the crowd, she saw a familiar wave, Alma, wrapped in an oversized puffer jacket, her cheeks red from the cold, her grin unchanged.
“Abbie!” she shouted, barreling toward her. “Oh my God, you actually did it!”
Abbie dropped her suitcase just in time for Alma to crash into her. They laughed
