On some evenings, Soo likes to romanticise her life. she’ll think about how small her circle of friends is, how small her worries her and how she is a needle in a haystack.

On some evenings, Soo likes the way she looks, she likes to think that her other half would take her as she is, plump and short. 

On most evenings, Soo is alone. not all alone, she has her romantic thoughts, her hands and her self.

On most evenings, Soo sleeps with bated breaths and pillows at her side.

One evening, Soo meets Krystal; Krystal meets Soo. 

One evening, they spend the night together, inseparable. 

One afternoon, Soo sits next to Krystal by her bed. Her room is glowing orange, there’s a bird singing it’s last song and the faint cries of children.

One afternoon, Soo murmurs she likes Krystal. Krystal reciprocates those feelings in a mumble. 

Most evenings, Krystal is not alone.

Most evenings, her bed is doubly warm and doubly comfortable.

Every evening, Krystal keeps Soo flush against her, she likes Soo’s back and the way it feels against her s.

Every evening, Krystal kisses the curve of Soo’s spine, leaving her red trail along it.

Each evening is a dream for Soo.

Each evening is a gift for Soo.