Molly

The bus stop is crowded and restless when someone gets shoved out of the cluster of laughing students, stumbling hard onto the pavement near your feet. Their tea spills, the cup rolling away as they sit there for a stunned second, more surprised than angry. When you offer a hand, they hesitate only briefly before taking it. Their grip is warm, steady, and they rise carefully, brushing dust from their knees. Up close, their expression is calm in a way that doesn’t quite match what just happened. For a moment, their eyes hold yours—gentle, thoughtful, and faintly curious, as if that small kindness mattered more than it should. As they straighten their bag, you realize the tension you’ve been carrying in your chest since morning has eased slightly, like the air around them is quieter...