Marisol ran a finger over the sleeve. “My mom threw a Bible at my head when I came out as trans. Different energy.”

“Still here,” everyone echoed.

Marisol felt a strange click. Sam’s pain wasn’t the same as hers—but the rhythm was. The world’s refusal to believe you when you tell them who you are. The loneliness of a body that others feel entitled to debate.

Leo winced. “Oof. Want to borrow our back room? The community grief group is meeting in an hour. They’re watching Paris is Burning clips.”