A kid with green hair and nervous hands asks, “How do I know if I’m really trans? Or if I’m just… confused?”

Leo felt like an intruder until a older trans man named Marcus—silver beard, worn denim jacket, a walking history lesson—handed him a cup of terrible coffee.

And they are still writing it. One cracked mirror, one lit lantern, one chosen family at a time.

“Welcome to the family,” he says. “We’ve been saving you a seat for forty years.”