Her mother did nothing but welcome her home, when Dawn returned only one week after Reggie's call.

They didn't talk about her miserable contests or the hour she'd spent crying on the bathroom floor immediately after her arrival. Those were trivial things and overall unimportant.

What truly mattered at the moment was Paul. Who currently stood on her doorstep, completely soaked through from the rain outside.

Dawn rubbed her eyes, thinking that maybe he was just some sort of hallucination and would eventually disappear when she ignored him.

"I am not a Fata Morgana," he said and, unsurprisingly, she didn't believe him.

"Look." Paul resisted the urge to bang his head against a wall, since it would only make his situation worse, although, he had to admit, it was more than just a bit tempting. "I'm not in the mood for this right now."

"Do you have any means of identification?"

And much grinding of teeth ensued.

"Why are you here?" she asked finally.

His features softened—something no-one normally tended to see from him. Ever. "You didn't come."

"Yeah, I guess I forgot. Sorry."

"No," he corrected; perfected. His voice sounded almost as hollow as his eyes looked. "I'm sorry."

And then he left. And then she wondered if the windows were closed.