Hullllooo everybody! Not too much of a wait this time, eh? I like it this way much better too, so hopefully we won't have any two-month-long waits. That wasn't any fun at all.

I hope this chapter, as always, finds everyone well! Enjoy. :)

Monica awoke with a start early the next morning to a sharp knock at the door of the little apartment. She pushed the thin blankets aside and stumbled blindly to the door. With there being no peephole, she had no way of knowing who was on the other side. She cracked the door open cautiously at first, but then she saw that it was Sam. She wanted to slam the door in his face, but she didn't dare. Instead, she swung it open just wide enough for him to squeeze through. He strode passed her and waited for her to shut the door before speaking.

"Sorry for not coming back last night, I got busy with something important," he said, not looking at Monica, but observing the bleak interior of her apartment. He had obviously not been inside before now. Monica's eyes rolled at his apology. She seriously doubted that he was sorry, and she wished that he would just leave her alone, though the chance of that happening was probably slim to none.

"I don't have anything for you to do yet, but you can expect to be back to work within the next day or so. Also, I don't think I need to tell you that you are not permitted to go anywhere without my knowledge. I know you don't like me right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm in charge of you, at least for the moment," Sam continued. Monica was only half-listening and chose to ignore him instead of respond. She had heard the 'back to work' part though and she almost laughed. How was she supposed to work, and do a good job no less, with the way she was feeling now? She was supposed to be on vacation until after Christmas anyway, but there wasn't really a point to that now, she supposed.

Sam finally looked at her and it was almost as if his eyes demanded a response. Monica still refused to speak to him and returned his stare challengingly until he finally left her alone. With a slam of the door, he was gone again. With the daylight pouring through the window, her apartment didn't look so bad. The carpet was stained and the wallpaper was peeling, but it was otherwise clean, which made it slightly less depressing. She was on her way to inspect the kitchen when another knock sounded at her door. Figuring it was Sam again, she groaned loudly. Upon opening the door, however, she discovered that it was not Sam at all.

It was a young man with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. He was wearing khaki pants, a black polo, and a green apron that had a 'Starbucks Coffee' patch sewn in the middle.

"Uhh … sorry I didn't mean to bother you or anything, I just … I saw you come in last night and I wanted to come and welcome you to the building. I know it looks like it's seen better times, but it's not all bad," the stranger said, smiling cheerfully. "My name is Jason, by the way …"

Jason had lived in the building for two years and for the last month, he had been alone on the second floor. The super had evicted the other five apartments on the floor when they had been busted with weed. The place still reeked of the stuff. He had just gotten home from work the night before when he had seen the pretty red-headed woman walk in. She didn't seem like the kind of girl that would be living in a place like this, but he couldn't say that he wasn't glad for the company.

She was beautiful and Jason was momentarily mesmerized by the color of her eyes. She smiled back, but her eyes told a different story. He had always been good at reading people's emotions.

"Monica," she said softly, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it politely. Jason grinned when he heard her voice. She was definitely not from around here.

"It's very nice to meet you," he said, "and I'm glad you've moved in. If you ever need any coffee, I'm your man. I manage the Starbucks a block from here and across the street. You should come by sometime."

And with that, he left. Monica thought it very nice of him to come by and say hello. It was probably a good thing that she didn't notice the way he had been looking at her. If she managed to make a friend, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But then she scrubbed that thought. No, it was still so bad.

Andrew did not sleep all night. He didn't even try. It would have been pointless. He just sat in the living room of his apartment until Tess came the next morning. She knocked softly and called out that it was her from the hall. He let her in and immediately resumed his position on the sofa without looking at or speaking to her.

Tess hated to see him so upset, but there wasn't anything that she could do about it now. Eventually, as hard as it would be, he would just have to move on and accept the fact that Monica was no longer a part of his life. He was strong and she knew he could do it. He would have to. They both would.

"I said I would come by to—" But Andrew interrupted her.

"Do you know where she is?" He asked, looking at her for the first time since she had arrived. Tess looked at him sadly and sighed.

"No Angel Boy, I don't know where Sam has taken her. He thought it would be better if neither one of us knew, so he didn't tell me. Sam doesn't know where you are either, for the same reason. I think I agree with him though. How hard would it be to know where she was, and still not be allowed to see her?"

Her argument was valid, and Andrew had to admit that. It would be worse knowing, because if he knew where she was, nothing in the world could stop him from going to her, and that would get them in more trouble. Maybe some things were better not knowing. "You have no idea what this is like Tess," Andrew began, turning away from her again, "I can't imagine never seeing her again … it's just unimaginable."

Tess's heart ached for him, but there was nothing that she could do or say to make it any better, as he had said the previous day. "Humans go through this kind of stuff every day, Andrew. People lose loved ones and theyhave to move on. As unimaginable as it seems to you now, youwill eventually. Nobody is asking you to forget about her, and nobody expects you to, but the longer you sit here in the dark torturing yourself, the harder it will be to move on."

Andrew knew that Tess was right, as much as he didn't want to accept it. But for the moment, there would be no moving on for him, and that was just the way it was, torture or not.

"Look, I think you need to get out for a little while. Go for awalk or … something. I think I passed a coffee place on my way in, why don't you go get some hot chocolate? When you get back, we can talk about you working."

Andrew thought that sounded like an okay idea. The hot chocolate part, not the talking about working. The thought of working so soon did not enthuse him at all, though maybe working was what would keep his mind off of Monica, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad. As he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out the door though, he scrubbed that thought. Either way, it would still be so bad.

It was just after six and the sun hadn't risen yet. For some reason, Andrew was glad of that. The coffee shop that Tess had mentioned was actually a Starbucks, and it wasn't very far at all, maybe a ten minute walk. He was glad for the exercise and fresh air. It was chilly out, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable, and the cold would make the hot chocolate that much better. He actually found himself looking forward to it.

The little coffee shop was situated on a corner and when he walked in, he was momentarily overwhelmed by the strong smell. It wasn't really the smell of the coffee, it was who he associated the smell of coffee with. For a moment, he thought about turning right around and walking out. But that was the kind of thing that Tess had been talking about. Moving on. And so he stayed to get his hot chocolate like he'd planned.

He was the only one in the store except for the workers behind the counter. Andrew lingered in front of the pastry case for some time trying to decide if he should try to eat anything. He'd been feeling slightly nauseas since the previous day and hadn't felt like eating anything since the afternoon before. Everything in the case looked extremely sweet and just looking at them made his stomach churn. Just the hot chocolate would do, at least for now. As he was about to turn towards the register and order, however, an item in the cold case caught his eye. It was one of those little bottles of Iced Mocha. Mocha was Monica's favorite. He picked it up, turned it over and over in his hands, and thought about throwing it across the room for a moment, envisioning the sound that the glass would make as it shattered on the floor. Instead of that, he put it back in the case and turned away so as not to torture himself further.

He approached the counter finally, where a young man stood behind the register. He had messy brown hair and a nametag attached to the signature green apron that read 'Jason, Store Manager.'

"Welcome to Starbucks, sir. What can I get for you this morning?"

"Uhh … may I please just have a small hot chocolate?" Andrew asked, holding out a five-dollar bill that he had found in his pocket. When it was ready, he took the hot beverage to the corner of the café and sat in a fluffy armchair. The sun had started to rise then and Andrew just sat staring out the window, sipping his hot chocolate occasionally, and thinking of nothing and everything at the same time.

Jason stood at the espresso bar steaming a pitcher of milk and he found himself thinking of the woman he had met earlier. Monica, didn't she say? She had looked so … sad maybe, but he didn't think it was just that. He hoped that she would come by sometime today. He wanted to talk to her and get to know her. But most of all, he wanted to know what had happened to her. He had always believed, as corny as it was, that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Her eyes said that her soul was hurting, and he wanted to know why. It must have been something bad, and recently. There was no other explanation for the lack of sparkle that should have been dancing in her beautiful brown eyes.

He had been so engrossed in his thoughts of his new neighbor that Jason didn't even notice that the blonde guy who had ordered the hot chocolate was back at the counter. He was the only one up front this morning and had to juggle working the bar and the register, which was no easy thing, especially on busy mornings. He sat the pitcher of milk down and hurried over to the counter.

"Sorry, man, I didn't even see you. Can I get you some more hot chocolate?" He asked, indicating the empty cup in his hand. Andrew nodded and passed it to Jason, who started making small talk.

"So, I didn't catch your name earlier …"

"It's Andrew," he said, reaching for more money to pay for the refill. But Jason stopped him.

"It's alright, man … refills are on the house today," he said. Maybe Jason was paranoid, but there was something in Andrew's eyes too … "Hey, uh … you're not from around here, are you?"

Andrew shook his head no and politely ended the conversation. He had no desire to talk to Jason, or anyone else for that matter. Well, he would have liked to talk to someone … but since that wasn't possible, he would just keep his mouth shut. He wanted to walk. For a long time. And so he left the store and started down the street. Jason watched him go and hoped that he would come back again soon. He could probably use a friend. And then, just as he had been thinking of her again, a familiar red-headed female graced Jason with her presence. Jason was a little disappointed that Monica's timing wasn't better. If she had been two minutes earlier, he could have introduced her to Andrew. They could probably have both used a friend.

Monica had done it. She had left without asking Sam for permission. Did she care? No. He probably wouldn't even notice. And if he did … so what? What would he do, really? She was so beyond caring that it was almost funny. Almost. She was surprised to find that she was glad that she had come to Starbucks, to see Jason, if for no other reason than that she knew him, and knowing someone was a good feeling. Knowing someone made her feel slightly less alone. Slightly.

"Hey … you made it!" Jason was thrilled that she had come, although he tried not to look too excited. He didn't want to freak her out or anything.

"Yeah, I … thought getting out of that awful place for a while would be good," Monica replied before realizing that she had just insulted Jason's home. "I mean … sorry, I'm just not used to it yet, that's all." Worse for Monica was the thought of being there long enough to get used to it. She chatted with Jason for a few minutes before he asked her if she would like anything.

"Oh sure, uh … I'll just have a regular cup of coffee," she said softly, but then changed her mind quickly, "no, sorry … I'll just have one of these," she said, grabbing a bottle of Iced Mocha from the cold case. Jason refused her money when she tried to pay, insisting that it was "on the house." She thanked him and found a fluffy armchair in the corner to sit and drink her coffee.

She tried to enjoy the tranquil moment as best she could, tried to force her mind to think of something, anything but him. But it was impossible. Every sight sparked a memory, every thought a moment in time too precious not to obsess over. Was this how it would be for the rest of … forever?

The tears came faster than she could stop them, quicker than she even realized. Surely, not forever. It had been less than one miserable day since she had seen him and the ache, the physically painful ache, in her heart was already so severe. Monica couldn't imagine forever. And then she noticed …

Fingerprints.

On her bottle, there was a set of fingerprints. A whole set, from thumb to pinkie finger. She studied the marks for some time. It was quite astonishing to think about the concept of fingerprints. A perfect and completely unique marker. No two sets of fingerprints were exactly alike. She pressed her fingers onto the bottle, making prints of her own on the glass just above the other set. It was a few minutes before she realized that the only visible difference between the two sets was size. The set that had been there was twice as big as hers. Otherwise, they were nearly identical.

"Let's go on dreaming; for we are so close, and yet still ... so far."

More Soon,

Love, A