"Black americano or latte again?" Glenda asked.
"Cold coffee," Sandra said immediately, eyes glued to her screen.
Glenda blinked, pulled out of her thoughts. This was the woman who'd never once said yes to cold coffee — convinced it would crack her tooth enamel. Seriously?
"Huh? What?" Sandra glanced up.
"Nothing." Glenda turned to the counter. "One black coffee and a cold coffee, please."
"Extra ice," Sandra added, still not looking up.
Glenda gave her a long look, then flashed the receptionist a sudden, unsettling grin. "You heard that?"
He nodded quickly. "Coming right up." He set the cups down, and Glenda carried them over.
"Since when did you get over your tooth enamel trauma, Sandra?" Glenda asked, watching her carefully.
"My coffee." Sandra held out her hand, flat and cold. Glenda rolled her eyes and handed it over.
"I'd get more out of talking to a rock." Glenda stomped off.
"Hey — wait, Glenda!" Sandra chased after her. A gust of wind hit her, and she shielded her eyes with her arm.
When she lowered it, a familiar figure caught her gaze. For a moment she just stood there, smiling without realizing it. Not Glenda. Not Amy.
Someone she'd grown to care about — a stranger turned friend.
"Kidlathea!" Sandra called, waving. No response. Kidlathea was staring at her phone, maybe reading something. "Hey, Kidlathea!" Still nothing. Same posture. Same silence.
Sandra started toward her — but Kidlathea was drifting toward the main road.
"Kidlathea! Hey — what the hell, is she ignoring me?" Sandra muttered, picking up her pace.
A horn blared. Sandra's head snapped sideways — a truck was bearing down on Kidlathea, who hadn't moved.
*Run!*
Sandra sprinted, grabbed her, and yanked her back just as the truck roared past. They hit the ground hard. Kidlathea stayed frozen.
"Hey — Kidlathea! Are you deaf?! Didn't you hear that horn?!" Sandra shouted, pinning her shoulders to keep her still. Kidlathea struggled until Glenda arrived, pulling Sandra off her.
"Sandra, calm down — you're scaring her." Glenda held her back. Kidlathea stood, brushing off the dust. "Are you okay? You really need to be careful near the road," Glenda said gently, helping dust off her sleeves.
"Kidlathea!" A shaky voice cut through. Sandra's brows furrowed as Jovan ran toward them. Glenda's grip on Sandra's arm tightened. Both their eyes locked on him.
"Babe, are you okay?" he said, cupping Kidlathea's face, speaking slowly so she could read his lips. "Here — your cochlear. I fixed it." He held it up. "Must've been rough without it, huh?"
She nodded, leaning into his shoulder, fingers curling into his shirt, anxiety still written across her face. "Everything's okay now," he murmured, stroking her hair.
Sandra froze, watching them. The realization hit all at once — being friends with her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend. Glenda, still holding her arm, knew exactly what was running through her head.
She looked at Sandra — blank, expressionless. Glenda exhaled, dragging a hand through her hair. *How did I never notice Kidlathea was deaf?*
The train. It all clicked into place like a slow-moving wreck.
"Let's just go, Glenda," Sandra said, voice hoarse. Glenda didn't argue — just led her away.
Jovan watched them go, something flickering in his eyes. He recognized her too. But he said nothing.
"Ci— cigarette. Please." Sandra's hand hovered in the air. Glenda paused, then placed one in her palm — but didn't let go.
"Don't fall back into this, Sandra," she said quietly.
Sandra gave a hollow laugh. "One cigarette won't kill me."
"No. But the habit will." Sandra said nothing — just nodded and let it drop. She knew exactly what Glenda meant. The post-breakup spiral that had eaten years off her life.
"I've got a lot of questions in my head, Glenda."
"Like what?"
"Funny, isn't it? Running into my past and my present in the same five minutes." She laughed, bittersweet.
Glenda's eyes narrowed. "That girl is your 'present'?"
Sandra glanced away, replaying her own words. A sheepish, slightly goofy smile was all the answer Glenda needed.
"Since when, Ms. Designer?"
"It's just a feeling. I haven't figured anything out yet."
"Sounds like you never will. She already has a boyfriend."
"Says who?"
"The universe. Did you miss Jovan calling her 'babe'?"
"Relationships don't come with guarantees."
"What, are you a fortune teller now?"
"Can we just... think positive for once?"
"It's not about positivity, Sandra. It's impossible. She's straight."
"I don't need her to be a lesbian for my sake. I don't love people based on... sexuality."
"What if she *is*?" Glenda's question landed like a weight. Sandra's stomach dropped. "What if she is, Sandra? Would you really say 'let's start from square one'? Huh?"
Sandra had no answer. She'd never once considered Kidlathea's perspective.
"I don't know, Glenda," she said, hollow.
"And she's also disabled." The word came out sharper than Glenda intended.
"Why would you even bring that up?" Sandra snapped.
"Because it's true. And clinging to a few moments with her is only going to drag you backward."
"What are you even saying?"
"Why can't you just accept she can't be yours?"
"That's not what I asked. Answer my actual question!"
"Don't raise your voice at me."
"*You* raised it first. Look at yourself."
They both went quiet.
"...Listen," Glenda said, calmer now. "If something like today happens again — remember, without that cochlear, the world goes completely silent for her. Anything could happen. And there won't always be a Sandra around to save her."
For a moment, it all made sense. "So what — that's supposed to make me give up?" Sandra muttered.
"Then I'll stay close to her. Keep a spare cochlear on hand. Learn sign language for crowded places. Make sure my friends and family look out for her too. I'll even get a trained dog — a backup version of myself, for days I can't be there." Her voice steadied. "My feelings for her are clear, Glenda."
That quiet certainty dissolved whatever tension was left. Glenda just nodded. They sat together a while before heading back.
Sandra glanced back once — at Kidlathea — then walked away.
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"Kidlathea~" Jovan called sweetly as he walked in.
"Welcome back, baby~" Kidlathea answered from the kitchen.
Jovan smiled — until Ulan let out a low moan from across the room, as if greeting him. Jovan stopped cold, glaring at the cat. His jaw tightened.
"Tsk. Get lost, you filthy mutt. If it weren't for her, I'd have kicked you out the same day I kicked your owner out." He muttered, shoving the cat aside with his foot as he walked past. Ulan yowled.
Kidlathea's head snapped up. "Ulan?" She moved to get up, but Jovan caught her arm, guiding her back into her chair, blocking her view of the cat.
"Babe, I got you something — want to see?"
Her eyes still drifted toward the hall, searching. Jovan stepped in front of her, smiling the way he always did.
"Look." He pulled out a bouquet. Her face lit up instantly, and she buried her face in the flowers, eyes closed, cheeks flushing. "These smell amazing, honey."
He smiled back. "I'm starving, babe," he said, putting on a childish pout.
"Oh — it's almost ready. Go freshen up, I'll set the table."
He kissed her cheek and bounded upstairs. She laughed softly, watching him go.
...And forgot about Ulan.
▪︎▪︎▪︎