•Third person's POV The afternoon sun was still high, beating down on the cracked pavement of the bustling street. A river of people flowed around Kelly and Kylie, a mix of after-school uniforms and adults heading home from work. Cars rumbled by, smelling of hot metal and exhaust fumes. And people stared. An older woman sitting on a bus stop bench smiled softly at their joined hands, a nostalgic look in her eyes. A man in a stiff suit, however, shot them a look of pure disapproval, his lips thinning as he passed. Kelly felt the stares like a familiar, uncomfortable itch, the way he always did. Usually, the attention was just for him, a low-grade static of awareness that he had learned to ignore. But this was different. This time, the stares were for the two of them, for the sight of his calloused, slightly larger hand holding Kylie's smaller, warmer one. He kept his eyes forward, focusing on the rhythmic tap of Kylie's sneakers on the sidewalk. She, on the other hand, seemed to b
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