not   that   deep,   she   thinks,   eyebrows   knitting   slightly.   “   okay,   but   you   sure   it’s   just   fun   ?   ”   her   voice   is   light,   steady,   threading   through   the   quiet   between   them.   “   because   it   shouldn’t   leave   you   feeling   …   hollow.   ”   she   shifts   her   weight,   fingers   brushing   against   the   edge   of   her   pocket,   listening   to   the   words   settle   in   the   air.   “   guess   sometimes   we   all   lie   to   ourselves,   huh   ?   ”   the   sentence   drifts,   soft,   curious,   more   a   reach   than   a   judgment.

notifying ...   everyone !        /        @openstarter. location ...   the streets of manhattan.

“i’ve  lost  my  earring ! ”  for  some,  a  minor  inconvenience.  for  leyla,  the  end  of  the  world.  she  was  only  semi - above  getting  down  on  her  hands  and  knees  to  search  for  it,  but  that  would  mean  scuffing  her  jeans  and  making  her  look  even  worse  when  turning  up  for  her  classes  that  afternoon.  “a  beautiful  chrysoprase  flower  down  the  drain.  now  i  look  ridiculous  with  just  one ! ”

stops   midstep,   the   sleeve   of   her   jacket   brushing   against   leyla’s   arm   as   she   turns,   eyes   catching   the   lone   chrysoprase   bloom   still   clinging   to   one   ear   ⸺   a   tiny,   lopsided   tragedy   that   somehow   suits   her.   she   almost   laughs,   a   soft   inhale   catching   in   her   throat,   before   she   sinks   into   a   crouch   without   a   second   thought,   palms   hovering   over   the   cold   manhattan   pavement.   “   okay,   wait   ⸺   show   me   where   you   were   standing,   ”   she   says,   eyes   sweeping   the   hairline   cracks   in   the   concrete,   the   dark   mouth   of   the   drain,   searching   for   a   flash   of   green.   “   it   has   to   be   here   somewhere.   things   don’t   just   disappear.   ”   tires   hiss   through   rain   swept   streets,   a   dog   calls   out   somewhere   behind   them,   and   a   wayward   breeze   brushes   célina’s   hair   across   her   cheek   as   she   lowers   herself   toward   the   pavement.   “   you   don’t   look   ridiculous,   ”   she   murmurs,   glancing   up   at   her   with   a   crooked,   conspiratorial   smile.   “   you   look   like   …   you   lost   an   expensive   earring   in   the   street,   which   honestly   ?   happens   more   than   anyone   admits.   ”   her   knuckle   brushes   aside   a   fallen   leaf,   slow   and   careful,   as   if   the   city   might   reward   gentleness.   “   we’ll   find   it,   ”   she   says,   certainty   warm   in   her   voice.