Make that the girl and two kids. What was this world even. That seemed insane. Like the good kind, but still insane.

She's leaning down, finally getting her fingers around the smooth wood, even as she tosses the question over her shoulder, "Do I ever?"

It comes out too easy, and it feels like it leaves her chest, fast and breezy like a bird between her ribs, before what feels like a ball and chain at the end of a cord from its tail slams into the back of ribs the second after. Because she doesn't. She hasn't. She spent the last years making sure he never even had a chance to get a single word or look at her in. So that he couldn't tell her anything, make the face at her she knew was hiding under the video footage of him pounding on that door, yelling.

When her superiors finally put it before her that this turn was a cover loophole out of control.