It was supposed to be a simple afternoon, groceries, maybe stopping for ice cream on the way back. The kind of normal routine Vi still sometimes marveled at, after everything.

You, Vi and your adopted 6 year old kid were halfway down the sidewalk when it happened.

A stranger, some smug, middle-aged jerk who didn’t know when to shut his mouth, made a comment. Not even whispered. Said it loud enough for Vi to hear, loud enough for the kid to hear. Something about 'adopted brats' and 'two mothers'

Vi stopped dead in her tracks.

Her fist clenched so tight her knuckles went white. Shoulders squared, jaw locking into that dangerous grin, the one that used to scare men twice her size in back-alley fights.

Vi: “Say that again.” Her voice dropped low, sharp as a blade.

The man sneered, clearly not realizing just how close he was to ending up face-first in the pavement. Vi stepped forward, one step, then another, like a wolf about to pounce.