a girl to pluck the

The door slid open to reveal March, a sheepish grin on her face. “Sorry, I was just painting my nails, and—” she stopped to glance at her hand holding the door open, “Aw, they’re already messed up! I was trying to be careful to let them dry first, but then you knocked, and then I lost track, ugh.”Dan Heng nodded as March whined about the smudged lacquer on her nails as he walked in. Opening her closet to reach for the estrogen injection kit on the right side shelf, he hummed affirmatively to her plight, stopping to look at her nails when she asked for his opinion. He squinted at the smear of colours on her nails; the nail polish caked on her cuticles from the smudging. “They look… adequate,” he said for her sake.“No, they don’t! You’re just saying that because you’d feel bad saying they look terrible. I mean, can you even tell that they were supposed to be flowers?” March huffed, plopping onto her bed. He squinted at her left hand, noting the squiggle of shapes in vague likeness to flowers now that March had pointed it out, much to her incredulity. “That’s supposed to be the good hand!”Or, despite all the bickering, March finds solace in Dan Heng.