“What’s your name?” I ask, not wanting to let my arms fall away, not wanting to stop touching her. I gamble with myself and decide to keep a light hand pressed to the small of her back for some extra support. “Aer,” she replies, a slight tremor to her vocal cords, one I’m hoping is from the cold and not my presence. “Air?” I ask, making a stupid motion with my hands. “Like, O2?” A laugh breaks free from her throat, and although it’s at my expense, I can’t help but love the way it sounds. Hoarse and full, melodic even. “Aer,” she corrects, dragging her tongue across her teeth. “Short for
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