"My name is Leo," he said, his voice steady. "And today, I realized that I’m not just surviving—I’m finally home."
Leo stood up, his own notebook in hand. He walked toward the mic, passing Mama Cass, who gave his shoulder a firm, glittery squeeze.
In LGBTQ culture, stories are currency. They are how history is passed down when textbooks fail to record it. Leo looked around the room: at the non-binary couple sharing a plate of fries, at the older gay man nodding in rhythm to the poem, and at the nervous newcomer sitting by the door.