J'anna had come to dread coming home at night so much that she'd pushed her own patrols later and later and later so she didn't have to be alone in the apartment. Tim was gone. He hadn't even bothered to tell her himself, though she took his scattered left-behind belongings as a hopeful sign though the more days that passed, the less bright that hope became. Outwardly she went on as though all were well, but as GK had discovered it was a mask.
J'anna was drinking a lot of milk these days. It helped make what little sleep she got dreamless.
It was three in the morning when J'anna slipped quietly in the door of her apartment, wandered in the kitchen, pulled out a pint of whole milk, then sat down at the table in the dark, her head on the cool wooden surface as she near-silently cried.
She didn't notice the bags. She was too tired to notice that she wasn't quite alone.
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