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October 10, 2010
She thinks maybe this is what family means -- a hot cup of tea, a blanket 'round her shoulders, the t.v. droning on some channel she doesn't care about, clankings of dishes somewhere beneath the sound of running water. She's unprepared for it, this sudden onset of normalcy. She shivers beneath the blanket and pulls it closer, pressing wool against wind-chilled skin.

"Erica?" comes a soft voice. Lena is in the kitchen archway, holding a bowl of soup. "You must be hungry."

"Thank you," she whispers, taking the bowl in slightly trembling hands.

Soup. It's almost too much.