ADAM
Can two people's lips taste the same?
The question stalked me all the way back to my quarters, pacing my thoughts with the same relentless rhythm as my boots against stone.
The night air should have cooled me, cleared my head. Instead, it sharpened everything—memory, sensation, doubt.
Maya's lips had tasted like rain and iron. Like something wild caught between fear and defiance. I remembered the way she used to smile before she kissed me, like she already knew the outcome and was daring fate to interfere.
Dora's had been different. Softer. Warmer. A quiet promise layered beneath the fire. Kissing Dora had felt like coming home to a place I hadn't known I'd been searching for. There had been grief there too, always grief, as if she carried endings in her bones.
And Sage.
Sage's lips tasted like both.
