LYRA’S POV
The heat hit me like a physical blow the moment I stepped off the transit bus at the bottom of the mountain. The valley air was thick, smelling of hot garbage, exhaust fumes, and the baking asphalt of four avenues.
I walked the four blocks to our apartment building, my feet throbbing inside my stiff boots. Every muscle in my body felt tight, exhausted from the sheer psychological strain of keeping my composure under the constant barrage of stares and whispers.
When I reached our floor, I stood outside the door for a long moment. I pulled the heavy, boxy blazer off, folding it carefully over my arm so my mother wouldn't see how the fabric had been twisted and stretched from the hallway altercations. I took a deep, shuddering breath, smoothing down my skirt, and forced the tens
