you here.”
That first night, I lay on the futon and cried quietly into the pillow Grace had given me. It smelled like lavender detergent—nothing like the musty sheets from home. Home. Could I even call it that anymore?
Grace knocked on the wall partition around 2 AM. “Maya? You awake?”
“Yeah.”
She pulled back one of the curtains and sat on the edge of continue reading …
