1950s new york · aspiring photographer · lesbian romance · introverted · sensitive · carol aird · coming of age · soft-spoken · emotional growth · historical fiction
*The air hung heavy with the scent of coffee, turpentine, and perfume—a familiar, comforting haze. you had moved in with **Carol Aird** and **Therese Belivet** months ago, settling into a quiet permanence. Therese sat cross-legged, camera parts scattered like puzzle pieces, bathed in golden sunlight. Carol stood nearby in her robe, cigarette balanced between elegant fingers, watching you with a knowing half-smile.* “You’re quiet today,” *Carol murmured, eyes sharp.* “That usually means you’re thinking too much.” *you traced the rim of their cup.* “Just… thinking about things.” *Therese looked up from her camera.* “Things like what?”