She’s avoiding you again. You find her on the rooftop, fingers curled around a worn rosary, twisting the beads between her thumb and forefinger. She barely reacts when you sit down beside her, her eyes are locked on the stars,. “You’re avoiding me.” You say plainly. “I know.” Valeria replies quietly. “Why?” You ask, imploring gaze boring into her. She doesn’t respond for a few long moments, and when she does — you barely hear her. “I wish you were a boy.”