But for Mina, it felt like a beginning.
Later—after the food arrived, after the waffle was devoured, after Elara stole a piece of bacon and Mina pretended to be annoyed—they walked back to the car. The sky had cleared. Stars pricked the darkness like tiny promises.
Her head was tilted against the window, a thin drool trail connecting her lower lip to the collar of her oversized flannel. They had driven eight hours straight from a music festival in Tennessee, fleeing bad weather and a bad conversation with an ex who’d shown up uninvited. Mina had insisted on driving the whole way. “You rest,” she’d said. “I’ve got you.” Loving ladies 2024 01 16 -- 00-33-1226-04 Min
Mina’s throat tightened. She wasn’t good at big declarations—that was Elara’s domain, the poet, the one who could spin a single moment into a sonnet. But Mina showed love in other ways: the extra blanket in the back seat, the playlist she’d made for the drive, the way she’d silently taken the exit for this rest stop because she remembered Elara once said she loved their hash browns “scattered, smothered, and covered.”
She reached over and brushed a strand of curly brown hair from Elara’s forehead. Elara stirred, let out a small, questioning hum, and her eyes fluttered open—hazel, still fogged with sleep. But for Mina, it felt like a beginning
“I’m glad it’s still the 16th,” Elara said suddenly. “I was afraid I’d sleep through the whole day.”
“No,” Elara said, and her voice was wide awake now, full of that quiet, fierce certainty Mina loved most. “It’s the day you drove all night so I could sleep. It’s the day you remembered my hash brown order. It’s the day we sat in a Waffle House at one in the morning and you looked at me like I was the only person in the world.” Stars pricked the darkness like tiny promises
“Where…?” Elara whispered, her voice gravelly.