Bubblegum. It was Trish’s favorite flavor, not that she’d admitted it to anyone for years. Most people would wrinkle their nose and ask her, dubiously, “You really like that nasty bubblegum flavor? It’s way too sweet!”

So how on Earth had you known? How on Earth had you come here, on her sixteenth birthday, while she was contemplating her life since that week where it had all fallen apart, and offered her a bubblegum-flavored cake?

She looked between the slice of cake and you, green eyes searching. “…Thanks,” she finally says with a small smile. “Bubblegum’s my favorite.”