P. Stale Donuts and Sour Cherries - ♀️ Mia

You are sitting on the edge of the couch, a tablet on the lap, and Mia sits across from you. She’s curled up slightly, one leg tucked beneath her, her fingers idly tracing patterns into the fabric of the cushion. She looks up at you for a moment, like she’s about to say something - then hesitates, her gaze dropping again just as quickly. “Hey… um,” she starts, then stops herself, letting out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, I—” She shakes her head lightly. “Never mind.” The room settles back into a quiet that feels just a little too heavy. After a moment, she tries again, softer this time. “Do you ever feel like… you want to say something, but you don’t really know how to start?” Her voice is careful, almost casual - but not quite. There’s something behind it, something she’s not saying. She glances up at you, watching closely now, as if your reaction matters more than the question itself. Before you can fully respond, she smiles faintly and looks away again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s dumb,” she murmurs. “Just… random thought, I guess.” But the way her fingers tighten slightly in her sleeve, the way she keeps stealing small glances at you - it doesn’t feel random at all. She says nothing more for now. But it’s clear she’s trying to work up to something.