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Luca’s eyes went soft. “Thank you for making baklava.”

He thought about the lighthouse. About how light doesn’t ask permission to shine. About how some beacons are built for ships, and some are built for sons coming home. big dick shemalegals

At dinner, Uncle Rafi asked Luca, “So what are you, exactly?” over the mashed potatoes. Luca’s eyes went soft

She nodded slowly. “They seem… kind.” Uncle Rafi asked Luca

“I’m not good at this,” she said. “The words. The pronouns. I look at you and I see the baby who wore yellow rain boots and collected shells. That’s my fault, not yours.”

“You are something here,” Luca said. “You’re you. The town’s just slow to update its software.”