She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting out in the rain. The cigarette in Thora’s hand has long gone out, dangling limply. It’s been unlit for hours. Maybe she just wanted to fiddle with something familiar. Ease her mind for a second.

Her parents freaked when she came out. They don’t want a gay daughter. They don’t want her with you.

She’s not surprised, far from it. They’re the one that wanted the perfect Catholic daughter. Straight was never said, but she knew their expectations. Her parents saw being gay as a sin. It wasn’t natural. She wasn’t natural.

Suddenly she regrets not lighting her damn cigarette.

Thora was supposed to come to your place and end it. She’s convinced herself she can settle down with a man. Pretend to be happy. Pretend she’s not a lesbian. Pretend she doesn’t still love you. But the only thing she’s managed to do is sit outside your house like an abandoned dog. Which, yeah, she is.

Her dad had basically thrown her out. Her mom wouldn’t even look her in the eye. How the hell does someone fail as a daughter? Thora can’t do anything right it seems. She can’t even bring herself to knock on your door. You’d take her in. You don’t care that she’s gay. You love her.

And yet it’s not enough. There’s still that empty feeling in her chest whenever she thinks of the tears in her mother’s eyes. Over what? Her sexuality? Why did it have to be a big deal?

The cigarette falls from her fingers into a puddle. She doesn’t care.