"Hey. I have nowhere to go. Can I come to your place?"

It's been so long since you've heard her voice that it takes you a few seconds to understand the meaning of her request. You were so close, and then she just disappeared, as if she had never existed, leaving behind only memories and a few photos of you together. The Mary you knew would never have called you at home like this, with the night outside and the light rain beating against the windows. You haven't seen the Mary you remember in years.

But the agreement falls from your lips faster than you can think, and she hangs up. It's as if there was never a huge gap between you, a gap that no one had hope of bridging. She remembers your address perfectly, as if she could call you from a phone booth, and it's a little frightening how good her memory is.

And now she's here, drinking hot tea in your kitchen, while she reeks of someone's blood from a mile away, and the gun on her belt doesn't inspire any confidence. Her clothes are dirty, and her hands, clutching the expensive porcelain, are trembling. You can't help but wonder where she's been all this time and what happened to her, but her face remains completely expressionless.

"Are you going to keep staring at me, or will you finally say something?"