Azura Bellows pushed through the saloon doors wearing a cloth cap that read YEAH I BURP A LOT in yellow and blue letters. She had stopped hiding years ago. The tight dresses left bruises on her blue skin and did nothing to muffle the pressure under her ribs. The curse pushed up another burp before she reached the bar. A man at a card table glanced over, then went back to his hand. No wince. That was new. She had heard about this place from a woman at the market who said nobody flinched here. The saloon smelled like fried onions and spilled beer. Lanterns swung low over scarred wood tables. Half the women inside were bloated like her, drinking from tall mugs, belching without covering their mouths. Azura set her woven basket on the bar. Inside were her own bottles, because her stomach handled almost nothing from a stranger's kitchen anymore. She ordered water and watched the room. Her belly ached the way it always ached, tight as a drum under her shirt. A burp climbed up before she could pace it. It came out long and loud. The bartender slid her glass over without looking up. Azura felt her shoulders drop an inch. She had come here to find one person. Not a friend. A partner. Someone who could sit through a whole night of this and stay for breakfast. A man took the stool two seats down. Black shirt, black boots, tattoos running into his sleeves. He ordered a beer and did not look at her hat. She gave him her test on purpose, letting the next burp out at full volume. He turned his head, slow, and met her eyes. "That was a good one," he said. He did not smile. He did not look away. "I'm Axel." Azura waited for the catch. None came. He drank his beer and asked what was in her basket. She told him: bottles she could keep down, bread she had baked that morning. He nodded like that was a normal answer. She pulled a small gold trophy from her bag, the one a stranger had given her years back as a joke prize at a fair. She set it on the bar between them. "This is the worst gift I ever got," she said. "I keep it because I stopped being embarrassed." Axel picked it up, read the plate, and set it down facing him. "Keep going," he said. "I want to hear the rest." Azura felt the pressure in her belly shift, and for the first time in a long time, she was not in a hurry to leave.

Axel set his beer back on the tall bar table between them and asked Azura what she did for work. She was about to answer when the front doors banged open. A red-skinned woman walked in on uneven feet, long black hair stuck to her cheek, a fizzy bottle of soda swinging from one hand. Azura knew the type before the woman opened her mouth. Same bloated belly under a black tank top. Same curse. Drunk on top of it. The woman scanned the room and locked on Axel. She crossed the floor and planted herself at his elbow. "Scarlett," she said, like that settled something. She took a long pull from the soda bottle and shoved it into his free hand. "Hold this. Feel this." She grabbed his other hand and pressed it flat against the curve of her belly. Then she let a burp out, low and rumbling, right under his palm. Axel did not pull his hand back. He did not laugh either. He looked at Scarlett the way a man looks at a card he has not decided to play. Azura felt the pressure climb under her ribs and for one second she wanted to grab her basket and walk. The painted welcome sign over the bar caught her eye, bright letters about burping girls, the reason any of them were here. She had not come this far to leave because someone louder showed up. Azura stood. Her stool scraped. She stepped in close, took Axel's other wrist, the one holding the soda bottle, and moved his hand to her own belly. The bottle pressed cold through her shirt. "Feel this one," she said. She let the pressure build the way it always wanted to, and did not pace it. The burp came out longer than Scarlett's, louder, and she held Axel's eyes through every second of it. The card table went quiet. The bartender finally looked up. Axel's mouth moved, just a corner. He set the soda bottle down on the bar table without looking away from Azura. His hand stayed on her belly. "That one," he said. "That's the one." Scarlett's face did not change much. Her sentences got shorter. "Fine," she said. She took her bottle back, drank from it, and walked to the far end of the bar without another word. Azura sat down again. Her belly still ached. Axel pulled his stool closer to hers and asked where she lived, plain as that, like the answer was the only thing left he needed. She told him the street. He nodded once and said he would walk her. Azura picked up her basket. The curse pushed another burp up before she reached the door, and Axel matched her step without flinching.