"make
They thinned their coffees to water talking about small things: a dress that refused to fit; the way heat made the air wring itself like hands; the neighbor who played sad synth at 1 a.m. After a while, the mural gave a final little shift, settling its painted feathers like a flock going quiet once the sun conceded noon.
Outside, the city's heat was no longer soft but personal. Every bus stop had a god looking down at it; some old, some reborn by popular vote. A trickle of sweat went down Alisys's spine and she ignored it like an apology that would only become an argument if acknowledged.
At Kolo's school, the guard peered down a ledger, licked a thumb, dragged it across paper as if dragging through time. Kolo came running in that disorganized pelting way that had somewhere to be and no blueprint for the getting there.
"Lissy!" he shouted, then grabbed the hem of her shirt and braked so they rocked together like docked boats.
