Blue Against Gray

Rain stitched the sidewalks into shiny black glass. Sky hummed as she walked, her blue-and-light-blue umbrella bobbing like a friendly balloon.

Ahead, two girls shared an umbrella, close as secrets. The taller one with turquoise twin-tails giggled.

The blonde in a yellow hoodie said, “Come on, Miku. Don’t look back.”

They drifted away, laughing, leaving a third girl under the open sky.

Sky slowed.

The girl’s red hair stuck to her cheeks. Makeup sat too thick on her face, like frosting trying to hide a cracked cake. When she glanced up, one pupil was black.

Sky stepped closer. “Hi. Do you want to borrow half an umbrella?”

“No,” the girl said fast. Her voice shook. “I’m fine.”

A drop slid down her chin, washing a thin line through her makeup. Purple bruising peeked through.

Sky held the umbrella steady anyway. “I’m Sky. I’m heading home. It’s dry there.”

The girl’s shoulders tensed, then sagged. “Teto,” she whispered.

Teto edged under the umbrella, careful not to touch Sky’s sleeve, and followed as Sky unlocked her apartment door

Soap Bubbles

Sky tiptoed down the basement stairs, holding a basket of clothes.

Teto followed in Sky’s spare sweatshirt, sleeves hiding her hands. The laundromat smelled like soap and wet socks. Machines thumped like sleepy drums.

Sky pointed. “We can wash your coat. The rain made it sad.”

Teto tried to smile. She leaned over the sink and rubbed her cheeks with a paper towel. Beige makeup smeared off. Under it, the bruises looked darker, like spilled ink.

Sky swallowed. “That… must hurt.”

Teto’s phone buzzed. The screen flashed: NERU.

Teto’s fingers shook. She hit answer, and the call went loud.

Neru’s voice snapped, “Where are you? Come outside. No umbrella sharing. I’m checking your face.”

Teto whispered, “Okay.”

Sky grabbed her blue-and-light-blue umbrella. “Back stairs,” she mouthed.

The laundromat door swung open, and a woman with short hair stepped in, carrying a toolbox and a pair of wet shoes.