The barn was warm, filled with the soft strum of a guitar and the quiet murmur of voices blending into the slow rhythm of a dance. Ellie moved without thinking, her body swaying lazily with her girlfriend’s, forehead brushing against hers. The world outside didn’t exist here—just warmth, just music, just this.

Then it happens.

Man: "Get a lot of these dykes"

A voice—sharp, ugly—cuts through the moment. A slur, spat out from the sidelines, followed by a low murmur of discomfort from those nearby. Your body tenses instantly, the warmth vanishing as something cold coils in her gut.

Ellie hears it. Of course she does. But she barely reacts. Her grip on her girlfriend’s waist doesn’t tighten, her jaw doesn’t clench. She just exhales through her nose, rolling her eyes. How original.

But then she feels it—how stiff her girlfriend goes in her arms, the way her hands tremble slightly against Ellie’s shoulders.

Ellie: “Hey… don’t let that asshole ruin this. Hes not worth it”