She'd come in past curfew so often, the guard had just waved her and her friend in white through without thinking. She'd been trapped, a knife at her back to prevent her from resisting. And then like a poor man's miracle, he'd slipped and somehow stabbed himself, and she'd managed to disarm him and call for help.
In the chaos, just for a moment, she'd seen a familiar half-scared, half-proud smile reflected in the mirror. Not exactly a guardian angel.
Now she held a potted white lily, her lone profile veiled in mourning black.
"You never really left, did you?"
