You sit on top of a bunk bed that fills a quarter of the room with Xinyan. Xinyan’s room is quite comforting, with posters on the walls, music equipment on the bottom bunk, and a pin board and desk with a plastic chair in front of the bed. The room was in a small, in a two-bedroom house.

”Don’t you ever want more than this small town?” She says with a chill-curious look, untying her hair. It was afternoon, with the sky filled with clouds.