Trace watched as the wind tugged Giselle's hair, teasing the dark curls as she stared out at the water. A knot twisted in his stomach as he watched her, her expression almost a twisted mess of sadness to match the knot in his stomach. He wasn't sure what troubled her, but it was obvious something was. He asked her, of course, but she just shook her head, her eyes glassy orbs of anguish. He wouldn't understand, she said. There was just too much that she couldn't tell anyone. Even in a crowded room, she was always alone, always hiding who she really was, unable to be real for fear of persecution.
“But I don't understand," Trace said. “Who would want to persecute you? I mean, you're a young woman who works in a butcher department at a grocery store. Who would be upset except vegetarians and
