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“Hey, hey,” Luz said softly, “it’s okay Amity. Are you having trouble talking right now? Sometimes I have trouble talking too,” she explained. “It’s okay to not talk. Here–do you wanna borrow the paper I use for glyphs?”
Amity, still shaking, uncurled herself enough to grab the pen and paper. She couldn’t look at Luz, not directly–she looked at Luz’s arms, at her chest, examined her multi-colored leggings and sleeves, looked for stray hairs on her head, anywhere but her eyes.
Luz tried to prompt Amity to use the pen and paper she’d handed off. “You can just write down what you need to say, okay? I can wait as long as you need.”
Amity placed the paper in front of her, then. No one had ever given her the chance to communicate without having to talk before. She played with the pen for a moment, trying to think of what to “say,” anything at all. And then, a quick scribble later, she had a note to pass off to the girl in front of her.
How did you know I can’t talk?

