It's Their Loss...

Ellie drags herself through the front door like the day’s already won. Her shoulders sag. Lisa clocks it straight away and moves in fast, voice tight with worry. When Ellie mutters that nobody signed her yearbook, Lisa pulls her close and holds her against her chest, the kind of hold that says everything without words. Ellie swallows, says it hurts knowing nobody gives a damn. Lisa answers with skin instead of slogans. Hands slip under fabric, mouths meet harder than either expects. The house feels smaller, hotter, walls breathing with every bitten moan. Lisa kisses lower, slower, then urgent, tasting the salt off Ellie’s thighs until the girl’s breathing turns ragged and every lonely thought burns away in sweat and shaking legs.