Ruby came again, like a mirage emerging from the waves of heat rising off the concrete, on a Thursday when the sun burned harsh in a cloudless noon and threatened to drown Sapphire in her collared shirts and modest skirts. Ruby’s overalls were rolled up to her calves, her shoes browned with dust, and her torso and strong forearms were spattered in engine oil. A straining rubber band held back an explosion of dark curls. Ruby put a fist on her hip and an elbow on the countertop, smearing oil on the glass.

“Come here often?” she asked.

“I should ask that of you,” Sapphire said.

Before We Turn to Dust- by @mintly

(PLEASE GO READ THIS FIC IT IS UTTERLY FANTASTIC AND MINT IS A PRECIOUS CINNAMON ROLL YEAH)