When Sofia walked into her small house, she felt like she was going to fall to the floor. She was tired from working and dealing with suspects and the victim's relatives. The victim had been a child barely a teenager, but had so many years to live out her life. She was never going to feel any joy whatsoever; she wasn't going to feel anything in that coffin her mother had given her too early.

She saw Sara standing nearby placing some magazines on a table. She was relaxed and hadn't even noticed that Sofia had come home yet. If she had, the muscles in Sara's back would have tensed, like they always did when Sofia was around.

Sofia wrapped her arms around Sara and leaned forward so her face was against Sara's neck past the dark silkily hair.

Sara was startled and when her back began to tense, Sofia just clung tight. "Don't say anything or do anything, just let me hold on to you."

"Why?" Sara whispered hoarsely desperately trying to ignore the way Sofia was shaking slightly.

"Because you're here and you're real," Sofia managed to choke out between the tears running down her heart-shaped face.