She started getting out of the temple more, afterward. The outside world's colours brightened -- or maybe Iris just saw them now, and noticed the faces streaming past, and watched traffic, and listened to the murmur of crowds' feet. She went to museums, festivals, aquariums, anywhere she could wander the edges of, thoughtfully, watching. She met people, and got better at smiling. Smallness brought the world together: sometimes a new friend would light with recognition at Phoenix's name.
Adrian Andrews, at the art show full of abstracts, in did it best: her eyes shone, she flicked bangs from her face, she straightened proud. Mr. Wright saved her, she said, sure as tides. She was free of her past. And she twisted her poor, battered notebook, and smiled, and asked if Iris had been to the café down the street because the chai latte there was excellent.
Iris realized that she had never tried latte, and that Adrian was very pretty when she was happy. She found that steamed milk turned to graceful nothing on her tongue, and that sins were easier to talk about in a murmur, below the ambiant bustle, with a knowing ache in Adrian's dark eyes whether she told or listened.
And there was joy after that. They didn't talk about sins until after more meetings and milk foam, after day trips and sun-glare and laughing like they had known each other forever, walking arm in arm. It wasn't until after, when Adrian's elegantly bare apartment was home-comfortable, when Iris knew the feel of sleek blonde hair through her fingers and being so happy nothing else mattered.
They didn't talk about sins again until the shower. It was a moment steam-wreathed and warmer than anything, tile sure at Iris's back, the easy slide of the water and their bodies and Adrian's lips against her forehead:
"You're the strongest person I know."
Iris's eyes flew open -- it couldn't be true but it hurt beautifully. She couldn't pick a truth to tell and she cupped Adrian's face in her hands, kissing her deep and nearly grateful enough. Their long hair clung and water trailed down skin, much like fingers did.
The world was smaller than usual that moment, closer, but always had its wealth to learn.