In her mind she could still see Mary's grave, the words carved out in sharp relief against the smooth face of the granite. She could smell freshly laid sod, a light haze of early spring flowers occasionally wafting through. Yet she was unable to remember exactly who had been at the funeral, their faces nothing more than a mere splattering of mournful colors against a backdrop painted in a smearing of oil paints.

She couldn't recall why she'd come to the studio today-there didn't seem to be any clients to capture in silver, no paperwork to fill out. She breathed deeply, taking in the acrid and ever-present smell of photographic developer. It held an almost sacred familiarity, an anchor to her life up to this point.

She heard the door to the studio open and let out her breath slowly. She wasn't ready to deal with anyone yet, and prepared herself to firmly but gently get rid of whoever had chosen to enter her world that day. She turned away from canvas backdrop and unwieldy lights and stopped in her tracks, a smile blossoming across her face for the first time in what felt like days.

Azrael: "I just thought I'd stop in and see how you were holding up."
Emily: "I'm keeping together, I guess. It still doesn't feel quite real."
Azrael: "You know that if you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask. I know how difficult this must be for you."
Emily: "I don't think I'm up to talking about it right now, actually. I'm sorry."

Azrael: "I understand completely. Listen, I brought you a little something-it's on your desk out front."
Emily: "What is it?"

Azrael smiled warmly, reaching out and taking Emily's hands in his own. She was surprised by the contrast of the smoothness of his skin against the gentle firmness of his grip as he silently led her out of the studio and into the waiting room.

Azrael: "Just a piece of cake. I was on my way over here when I saw a new bakery had opened and I just had to stop and get you something."
Emily: "You didn't have to do that."
Azrael: "I wanted to. Besides, you need to eat something. Here, at least try a little bite."

Emily reached over and picked up the cake, breathing in deeply the scent of lemon and sugar. A memory stirred in her mind, awakened from what seemed like an eternal slumber. Tristan had made a cake very similar to this one, a simple gesture of friendship that had meant the world to her. Had it really been less than a year since that night? It felt as though that evening had happened in another life, to another person far removed from herself. Yet if she concentrated only slightly she could remember with perfect clarity the dance of lights reflected off silverware, the quiet murmurs of conversations, and the complete feeling of belonging she'd felt that night even while chaos had unfolded around them.

She remembered how Azrael had sat next to her on one side while Mary sat on her other playing out a foolish charade with that obnoxious Chris Peterson. She smiled to herself at the memory of kicking his ass to the curb later that evening, of the satisfaction that came from protecting Mary for a change. Her smile quickly faded as the sting of loss and regret came once again, how she'd failed to protect Mary when she needed it most.

Azrael: "I promise the pain will fade in time."
Emily: "It feels like it's never going to go away."
Azrael: "I know. Believe me, I know."

Just as Emily was about to take a bite of the cake, she felt a crippling disorientation. The room seemed to fold in on itself, the walls bending forward as if to swallow her whole. She felt a searing rush of pain down both arms, the sensation so fierce she dropped the plate and fell forward to her knees as she gasped for air. Her vision became washed in a crimson veil, as if the world were bleeding.

Before she had a chance to cry out in pain, the world snapped back into place. She looked frantically down at her arms and was surprised to see only the ghostly white of her skin untouched by marks of any kind. Azrael was quickly at her side helping her up off the floor, his arms holding her steady as she swayed slightly.

Azrael: "Are you all right?"
Emily: "I don't know. It was the strangest thing, like a really bad dizzy spell or something."
Azrael: "I'm going to take you home. I'll make you some real food and you can get some rest."

Emily: "I'm so sorry I dropped the cake you brought me."
Azrael: "Don't even worry about it. I'm sure the bakery has plenty more where that came from."

Emily paused as she leaned over to clean up the plate and remnants of cake that lay on the floor in front of her. She picked up the plate in confusion, unsure of what she was seeing.

Emily: "I though you brought me lemon cake…?"
Azrael: "No, triple dark chocolate. Are you sure you're ok?"

Emily blinked hard as she tried to work out why she'd thought the cake had been lemon. She could only conclude that her mind had grasped the memory of the dinner party, and in her grief made her imagine the cake from that night.

Emily: "Yeah, I'm fine. I guess my mind's just playing tricks on me."
Azrael: "You've had a long couple of days. Don't worry about the cake, ok? We can pick up a piece of lemon on the way home if you'd like."

Emily: "No, that's ok. I think I just want to go straight home and lay down if it's all the same."
Azrael: "Whatever you want."

Emily glanced briefly at the cake, shaking her head slightly before following Azrael from the building and into the bright light of day.