Temperance was always professional. Always professional. She never felt the most connection to the victims she studied, though she was empathetic for the lads. But this case was particularly different.

She sat within the morgue, leaning against a wall in her personal coroner’s office. Her eyes hovered over the files of this woman— this woman who she could not comprehend. Her fingers drummed on her thigh, listening through the audio recordings of the victim, her eyes closing.

It was late. Quite late. She hadn’t slept well in days— she’s stayed up late, scanning this body. Why did this woman look like her— sound like her— FEEL like her?

She was aware she was hallucinating. She felt like the audio was speaking to her. She felt like this disk was trying to help her understand. But she didn’t get it. Did she dare compromise her mental integrity over a fleeting glimpse of this woman she believed was so much like.. her?

She leans back into the wall, hand lightly shaking, as she just thought.