She sat at their normal table at Carlito's, her mojito in her hand left untouched. The happy tourists passed around her, but she did not notice. To an outsider she looked like a woman lost in thought. They couldn't see the pain behind her big tinted sunglasses. It'd been two weeks since he was taken away. Away from her; away from his home. Two weeks of mourning and avoiding his loft. She'd been avoiding Carlito's to this point also, but Sam asked her here today. She'd rather be sitting at home cleaning a gun or running up another lead on his whereabouts, but every option had been exhausted. And her gun collection had been cleaned three times already. So she decided to meet Sam here. Even though her heart ached sitting at this table.
She shook out of her daze to see Sam approaching.
"I found us a job."