I walked quickly across the busy yet quite coffee shop, making my way to Rosalind, my best friend, and sat silently across from her. Rosalind was tall and thin, with espresso skin, angelic forest green eyes, glossy full lips and short curly maya blue hair. Me and Rosalind had been friends since middle school and even then she was the one to get us in trouble and I was the one to always get us out. We were impossible to separate and even when we were we always found some way to communicate with each other.

“So who is the lucky guy?” I interrogated, giving an infectious grin. Rosalind had been going
on for weeks about some guy she was talking too and by the look on her face she couldn't keep it in any more.

“Malcolm; Malcolm Porter,” she whispered. At first I thought she was just messing with me but in the moment of silence. I realised she was telling the truth.

“Malcolm porter? You can't be serious rosalind.” I shouted, giving a look of disgust. Malcolm Porter was a transphobic halfwit that had beaten others trans kids to an inch of their lives in 9th grade causing Rosalind to never tell anyone else she was trans.

“I know, I know. But he's changed todi I promise you.” She reassured me, giving a desperate grin. I kept looking in disgust, quietly mumbling to myself on how she couldn't be anymore of an idiot....