QHP-0002: Don’t Call Us Sweethearts

They weren’t trying to be beautiful. They just were.

A Polaroid from the late 1970s. Two young women in punk gear stand against a soot-dark brick wall, bodies angled inward like they’ve just finished laughing or are about to kiss. One wears a black leather jacket and a studded belt. The other has a shaved head and a sleeveless denim vest with an anarchy badge pinned over her heart.

There is no date. No scribbled message. But the photo is worn soft at the corners, as though it’s been handled often. Folded into a wallet. Smoothed out again. Hidden. Missed.

They’re not performing softness. They’re not seeking permission. There’s defiance here, yes, but also something quieter: affection without apology. The kind that doesn’t need explaining.

This is not a posed romance. It’s a caught moment, unafraid.