Annah sat at her desk and wept. If there really was a god, why would they steal the only thing she had left in the world? She reached for the top drawer of the desk where she knew her father had kept the gun. As she lifted it, she vaguely heard someone distantly call her name. Briefly, she heard someone running up the stairs and down the hall. As she started squeezing the trigger, she felt the cold metal of the gun be ripped from her trembling hand. The thief knelt beside her and held her as her tears soaked his shirt. When, at last, the tears ceased, she looked into the face of her saviour. She felt her breath escape her lungs as she studied the dear familiar face that she had long thought dead.

“Sean,” she whispered.