It was that I hadn’t seen the beauty of that connection between Cleo and Mei in eight years. I’d forgotten, somehow, buried under the layers of history and shit shovelled over top of it, how they made each other shine brighter. Somethin’ about Mei’s strong-willed spirit relaxed Cleo as if she trusted her friend to deal with the harshness of the world so that she herself wouldn’t have to bear the weight of it as much. And somethin’ about Cleo’s trust and gentleness eased the restless, vaguely antagonistic aura Mei often used as a shield. They were fuckin’ beautiful together. Always had been.
