Jane's point of view...
Every morning I see my scars reflecting on me through the mirror of my living room. The mirror I proudly bought the day I earned my first paycheck as a police officer for the Boston PD.
This beauty of a full-length mirror where I could see myself doing my workouts in the apartment that I've rented. The tiny but cozy apartment I hoped I could afford to buy when the bank granted me credit.
I was naive and okay with myself, I was not Roli Poli Rizzoli anymore, but a muscular officer of the law who could be proud of what she had achieved.
Now I'm not only older, but scarred too, on the inside and the outside. My hands, my torso - front and back, and there are bruises that never seem to disappear because of my job.
And for my love life, pffff. I had this 'thing' going on with Casey, my childhood friend. I call it a thing because it didn't touch me, other than my body who craved the attention now and then. But it didn't touch me on the inside. My inside felt cold. I longed for warmth, for more...
..
I saw her reflection in the window today; Maura and mine. We were molded together, and all I could think about was, 'that's how it should be', and the boldness of my own thought shots with a concentrated flash of lightning through my body and soul and I had to look away...
I love her. .Her.
..
That evening I sat on my bed and waited for Casey's face to light up on my skype.
"Hi, Jane..."
"Hello, Casey. One second... 'Breathe Jane.' "I think we should talk..."